You and I
by Keitorin Asthore
Summary: In retrospect, Blaine was pretty sure he could put a Katy Perry song to every key point in his relationship with Kurt. Klaine. Current chapter: "Lost"
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.

* * *

Blaine leaned back against the pillows and smiled. Five years of marriage, and he still never got tired of this.

Kurt nestled against him, his back pressed snugly to Blaine's chest. They cuddled peacefully under the covers while they watched a late movie on TV and rain lightly pelted the windows. Kurt yawned as Blaine idly stroked his fingers through his soft hair.

"Are you sleepy?" Blaine asked, pressing a light kiss on the top of his head. "We can go to bed if you're tired."

"No, I'm okay," Kurt said as he snuggled closer to Blaine's warmth. "You know, I really thought the first night of our anniversary trip, we'd be going at it like rabbits."

Blaine laughed. "Well, let's see," he said. "This morning, we got up at four, loaded a cranky baby and an even crankier toddler into a taxi along with twelve suitcases-"

"I packed light this time," Kurt mumbled.

"We flew to Ohio with said cranky children, met your parents at the airport so we could hand over the babies, sat through a very long layover in Cincinnati, took another flight to Orlando, sat on the tarmac for an hour, finally flew to the Keys, found someplace to eat, and finally got to our hotel," Blaine finished. "I don't know about you, but after a day like that, I think we deserve a little downtime."

He rested his chin on Kurt's shoulder and wrapped his arms tightly around his waist. "Besides, when was the last time we could snuggle for more than a few minutes before one of the munchkins interrupted?"

"True," Kurt admitted. He frowned and sat up. "Should we call them? Just to make sure they're okay? I mean, we've completely disrupted their routines-"

"We already called your dad to let him know we landed safely, and the kids have probably been in bed for a while now," Blaine said. "And anyways, they're busy getting spoiled by your parents and your sister and their Aunt Mercedes. They probably don't even know we're gone."

Kurt didn't look very convinced, so Blaine tugged him gently back against his chest. "I guess you're right," Kurt said reluctantly. He smiled. "Besides, this the first time we've gone on a real trip, just the two of us, since our honeymoon."

"Mm-hm," Blaine said. "We've got a whole week to ourselves." He kissed Kurt's cheek. "The little man and the princess are with their granddad and nana."

He kissed Kurt's neck, right below his ear. "Your fashion empire is between seasons, so you don't need to chain yourself to your sewing machine."

He tugged back the neckline of Kurt's tee shirt and kissed his shoulder. "And my TA is handling my classes and proctoring the finals. Which also means I don't have to grade them. Score for me."

Kurt laughed and nuzzled his cheek against Blaine's arm. "You're very smart," he said. "I'm just glad that it looks like this trip will better than I thought it would be this morning. Between the kids fussing and my iPod dying halfway to Orlando, I thought I was going to die." He tipped his head back to smile at Blaine. "Thanks for sharing yours with me. Although it would have been nice if we could have listened to something other than Katy Perry."

"Hey, Katy Perry is a goddess," Blaine defended.

Kurt shook his head with a teasing grin. "You and your love of autotuned pop tarts."

"Hey, now," Blaine said, tapping his finger on the tip of Kurt's nose. "It's not all the pop tarts. Just Katy Perry. Because she is amazing."

Kurt rolled his eyes and turned so he could wrap his arms around Blaine's waist. "It's a good thing you're cute," he said.

Blaine grinned and tickled Kurt's sides lightly. "But hey, if you think about it, I think we can put a Katy Perry song with every important moment in our relationship," he said.

Kurt sat up, his hair tousled, and wrinkled his nose. "Really?" he said skeptically.

Blaine put his hands on Kurt's hips, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of pajama pants, and scooted him a little closer. "Uh-huh," he grinned.

Kurt rose up on his knees and locked his arms around Blaine's neck. "You've actually sat down and thought it through?" he said.

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hips. "I sure have," he said.

Kurt suddenly smiled devilishly and swept Blaine to the side, forcing him to lie down on the bed with his arms above his head. Blaine could only grin up at him. "Well, you're certainly awake now, aren't you, babe?" he said.

Kurt straddled Blaine's hips. "So there's really a song for everything?" he said, his voice dropping soft and sultry.

Blaine closed his eyes as Kurt lowered himself down until their chests were touching. "Mm-hm," he said, shivering a little as Kurt raked his slender fingers through his thick dark curls and kissed up and down the side of his neck.

Kurt drew back, his hair falling carelessly over his forehead. "So what song is this?" he asked.

Blaine tucked his hand around the back of Kurt's neck. "At this point, I think we're beyond songs," he said, and he pulled him down for a kiss.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Oh look, I went back and wrote a prologue anyway!

Yes, I am writing an entire series of Klaine stories based on Katy Perry songs. Yes, I am crazy.

This story also runs cocurrently with one of my other stories, the oneshot "Family Ties." So if you've read that one, you can get a good idea of where this plotline will go.

Also, can I just say that Kurt and Blaine are the best couple ever to write? Oh mah gah, I just love them.


	2. I Kissed a Girl

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me. "I Kissed a Girl" belongs to Katy Perry.

* * *

This was never the way I planned

Not my intention

I got so brave, drink in hand,

Lost my discretion

It's not what I'm used to

Just want to try you on

I'm curious for you

Caught my attention

I kissed a girl and I...

_-"I Kissed a Girl"_

* * *

_May of 2007_

Blaine sat on the front stoop of the house, drumming his fingers anxiously on his knees as the summer sun began to set. He could hear the music inside the house. The rest of his friends were still there, still laughing and having fun and celebrating the end of their eighth grade year. But he couldn't bear to be in there anymore. Not after what just happened.

A blessedly familiar yellow Aztek pulled up to the curb and honked; he had never been so happy to see that ugly car in his life. He stood up, grabbing his bag, and opened the screen door to the house. "My sister's here, Mrs. Neely, I'm going to go home," he called.

"All right, sweetheart, feel better," she called back from the kitchen. "Call Joanna if you still want to go see that movie with her tomorrow."

"Okay," he called back, even though that was the last thing he wanted to think about. He shouldered his bag and ran through the front lawn to his sister's car.

Francey tapped her short, manicured fingernails on her steering wheel. "You seriously owe me, Blaine," she singsonged.

He threw his bag on the floor of the car and climbed into the passenger seat. "I would've called Mom and Dad if they weren't out of town," he mumbled.

Francey sighed dramatically. "But they are, and so I had to leave my date behind in the middle of Scary Movie 4," she said. She grinned as she put the car in gear and took off down the street. "But the movie sucked and the date sucked, so I guess it's okay."

Blaine clicked his seatbelt and sat back in the passenger seat. "Thanks for getting me," he said.

Francey's hazel-green eyes softened just a little. "Mrs. Neely said you weren't feeling good," she said "What's up with that?"

"My stomach hurts," he said.

Francey wrinkled her nose. "Okay, first of all, if you throw up in my car, I'm never giving you a ride anywhere ever again," she said. "Second, what gives?"

Blaine crossed his arms. "What gives what?" he asked.

"You've been looking forward to this party for weeks," she said. "And you're the kid that sticks everything out. A little tummy ache is making you feel so bad that you have to get your girlfriend's mom to call me to pick you up?"

"I don't feel good, Frances," he said, reaching over to fiddle with the radio.

She smacked his hand. "My car, my station," she said. "So what went on the party? Any salacious middle school gossip I should know about?"

He shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "We swam for a while. Mr. Neely made hot dogs and burgers. Wes pushed Trevor in the pool."

"Boring," Francey said. "What about spin the bottle? I totally used to play spin the bottle at parties when I was in middle school." Blaine looked down at his shoes.

"Oh my god! You played spin the bottle!" she said. She leaned over and pinched his cheek playfully. "Was it fun? Who'd you kiss? Did it suck, or was it awesome?"

He leaned back against the passenger seat. "It sucked," he said flatly.

Francey frowned. "Why?" she said. "Who'd you kiss? Was it that fat girl who licks her pencils? Because she creeps me out."

"No," he said. "I kissed Joanna." Francey laughed at him. "But she's your girlfriend," she said. "Why date her if she sucks at kissing?"

He propped his feet up on the glove compartment and slunk down in his seat. "I didn't know she sucked at it," he said.

"But you've kissed her before," Francey said.

He kept his mouth shut.

Francey whipped her head around. "Hold up," she said. "You've never kissed her?"

"No," he said reluctantly.

Francey busted out laughing. "Oh my god!" she said. "You've been dating her for two months and you just now kissed her because of spin the bottle? And it was your first kiss?" She reached over and ruffled his hair; he ducked away from her. "Oh, Babbie, you and your de-virginized lips."

"Stop calling me that, I'm fourteen," he protested.

"So how was it?" she asked, tapping her palms against the steering wheel. "Give me the blow-by-blow."

"I don't want to," he said.

She elbowed him. "I want to hear it!" she said. "Tell me, tell me, tell me. Or I'll have to tell Mom that you finally got your first kiss, and then _she'll _start asking you about it."

Blaine threw his hands in the air. "Fine!" he said. "We sat in a circle on the floor, I spun the bottle, it landed on Jo, I leaned over and kissed her. That was it."

Francey frowned. "That's so boring," she said. "No wonder you're so pissed off. That wasn't a real kiss, Blaine, it was just a peck. When are you going to kiss her for real?"

He kicked angrily at the glove compartment. "I don't know, Frances, just leave me alone," he said.

Francey scowled, but she fell silent for a while. Blaine huddled back in the passenger seat, his arms folded and his feet propped up on the glove compartment. "So you pecked Joanna on the lips," she finally said. "Then you got a stomachache and you had to go home."

"Yeah," he grumbled.

"And you don't want to kiss her again," Francey said.

"Not really," he shrugged. "I don't think I want to be her boyfriend anymore."

Francey drove down the road, music still playing on the radio. She glanced at him, bit her lip, and switched the stereo off. He stared out the window as she pulled into their neighborhood. "Listen, Blaine, I want to ask you something," she said slowly. "I've been wondering about this for a while now. It's kind of…well, awkward, but I have to ask. You don't have to answer. And I'll never ask you again."

He hugged his arms tighter across his stomach as his heart began to beat faster. "Ask me what?" he said.

Francey parked the car in the driveway, unclicked her seatbelt, and leaned her arms on the steering wheel. "Have you ever thought that you might be gay?" she asked softly.

Blaine turned his head away sharply, his lungs constricting. He knew he needed to lie, or come up with some kind of story, but he couldn't speak. His eyes burned.

"Oh, shit," Francey breathed. "Oh my god, Blaine…"

It felt like his heart was going to explode. "Please don't tell!" he begged. He pressed his forehead against the window, moving as close to the door as he could. "Please, don't tell anybody. I'll do whatever you want, you can hate me as much as you want, just please don't tell anyone!"

He tried desperately to grab for the door handle, but he couldn't see through his blurred vision. If he could just get out of the car and get into the house-

Francey reached over, undid his seatbelt, and grabbed him roughly around his waist, dragging him across the seat towards her. "You are so dumb," she said, her voice thick, and she pulled him against her.

Blaine buried his face against his sister's stomach and burst into tears. Francey wrapped one arm around his back and held him so tightly it hurt. She dropped her forehead against the back of his head and raked her fingers through his thick hair. He cried for a long time, until he ran out of tears and he realized that he was incredibly uncomfortable, scrunched halfway on Francey's lap with the gearshift jabbing him in the ribs. He sat up, rubbing his wet eyes with the heels of his palms.

"Gee, thanks for using my dress as a snotrag," Francey said, but he could tell by the way she pressed her lips together that she was close to crying too. She pushed a thick curl off his forehead. "So how long have you known?"

"Couple years," he said in a small voice.

"So you knew you didn't like Joanna and you dated her anyway," Francey said, drawing her eyebrows down.

He swiped at his nose. "She's really nice, and everyone knew she liked me," he shrugged. "And everybody else has a girlfriend."

"Except you'd rather have a boyfriend," Francey said quietly.

His face crumpled. "I don't…I don't mean to, it's just…that's how I feel and I can't change it and-"

"Hey," Francey said, smearing his tears across his cheeks. "Hey, quit bawling. You cry any more and I'll have to wring this dress out." He sniffled, submitting to his older sister's gentle attempts to dry his tears. "You really think we're going to hate you?"

"Well, I thought…I heard these stories…that when you…you come out of the closet your parents get mad and kick you out," he said, his shoulders still hitching. "And I don't want everybody to hate me and make me leave."

Francey tucked her arm around his waist. "Babbie, we'd never do that to you," she said. "We love you. And besides, you'd never make it as a hobo."

He almost laughed, but it came out as a kind of wet snort. "Thanks, Francey," he said.

She pinched his cheek. "Okay, this is what we're going to do," she said. "We're going to go inside. You're going to take a shower, because the scent of chlorine is making me a little seasick, and I'm going to make myself a sandwich, because that douchecanoe I was on a date with ate all my popcorn. You want one?" She paused. "No, wait, your stomach hurts."

"Actually, I feel a lot better," he admitted.

She grinned and got out of the car. "And when our parents get home, you're going to sit down and tell them what you told me," she said.

Blaine was in the middle of slamming his car door shut, but he froze. "Are you serious?" he said. "I…I don't think I can do that."

"Yes, you can," she said. "If I know, then Mom and Dad ought to know. And besides, you know I'm not good at keeping secrets. Remember Dad's surprise party two years ago?"

"Yeah, I think everyone remembers that," Blaine said, rolling his eyes. Francey laughed and headed towards the house. He hurried to catch up and put his hand on her arm. "So…so you're not mad at me for being gay?"

She paused on the front step. "Blaine, I get mad when you eat the last thin mint, or when you decide to paint my Barbie doll collection with white out," Francey said, her hand on her hip.

"I was five when I did that!" Blaine defended.

She laughed, one corner of her mouth tilting up more than the other, and she ruffled his hair. "I'll never be mad at you for being gay," she said firmly. "I mean, it's not like I really know what to do about it, and it'll probably be mad awkward when you bring home your first boyfriend because whoa, I'm totally not used to dudes kissing, but still. I love you because you're my little brother, and when you get a boyfriend I'll love him because you love him." She paused and frowned. "Unless he's a asshat. In which case, I'll do everything in my power to break you two up."

"And I get to do that for you, right?" he said.

She opened up the front door of the house. "Uh-huh," she said. "It's sibling right. And you know what? When you finally get a boyfriend that I approve of and you kiss him, you'll forget all about kissing Joanna Neely."

"Really?" he said, dropping his bag on the foyer floor.

"Oh, yeah," she said. "That kiss didn't even come close to counting as your first."

* * *

_March of 2010_

"This is so pretty," Brittany said. She smiled, petting the peacock feathers on the thin black headband. "Thank you, Kurt. You're the nicest boyfriend ever."

She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. Kurt kissed her back, but he stifled a sigh as he handed his debit card over to the girl working at the register. He had hoped that he could use this mall date to make Brittany realize he was back to his usual self after his week of flannel and trucker hats, but apparently not even wearing a kilt and pointing out every cute guy they passed was enough to convince her that yes, in fact, he really was gay.

This was going to be awkward.

"You want me to put these in a bag for you?" the girl at the register asked, holding up the handful of headbands he'd picked out.

Kurt glanced over at Brittany, who was still petting the soft peacock feathers. "All but the one she's holding, I suppose," he said.

The clerk shrugged and slid the others into a pink plastic bag. "You're such a nice boyfriend to take your girlfriend shopping," she said.

Kurt resisted the urge to groan and slam his forehead against the counter. Brittany put the headband on and rested her chin on his shoulder. "He's my favorite boyfriend," she said.

The clerk gave them a funny look, but he thanked her politely as she handed him the pink bag. Brittany tucked her hand in his as they left the shop. "Where are we going now?" she asked.

"How about the food court?" he suggested. "We can get something to drink."

"Can we get a milkshake?" she asked.

He smiled. "Sure," he said. She squeezed his hand as they walked through the mall. They looked like an ordinary couple (especially since Brittany was finally wearing something other than her Cheerios uniform) and, except for his kilt, they looked like every other couple walking around. But they weren't an ordinary couple. He was gay, and he didn't love her, and she didn't know it. And he really, really needed to tell her.

They got into the line for Dairy Queen; she stood behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Kurt stood very still as she nuzzled his neck. "Mm, you smell nice," she said.

"Thank you," he said, patting her hands. "What kind of milkshake would you like?"

Brittany frowned as she studied the menu board. "I don't know," she said. "There are too many flavors."

"Well, what kind of flavors do you like?" he asked. "Would you rather have fruit or chocolate?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Can't I have both?" she said. "I want to have to best of both worlds. Like Miley, but with ice cream."

He shook his head. "How about you get a sundae instead of a milkshake?" he suggested. "That way you can have chocolate and strawberries."

Brittany brightened. "You are so smart," she said.

He smiled. "Well, I try," he said, half-joking.

He ordered the waffle-bowl sundae and carried it over to a table. Brittany followed him with spoons and napkins. "This is the prettiest sundae I've ever seen," she said, sitting down in the chair next to him.

Kurt nudged it over to her. "Eat it before it melts," he said.

"You want some?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Only if you want to share," he said.

Brittany scooped up a little bit of ice cream, chocolate, and strawberries and held out the spoon. "You should open your mouth," she said.

He obeyed and she fed him a bite. "That's really good," he said, dabbing the edge of a napkin against his lips.

Brittany smiled at him. "This is the best date I've ever been on," she said. "Much better than the date where I had to buy cereal." Kurt raised an eyebrow as she took a bite of her ice cream, but he was starting to get used to Brittany's non sequitors. She licked her lips and smiled at him. "I love you."

Kurt was too shocked to say anything and she leaned in for a kiss. He backed up as her slightly sticky lips barely brushed his. "Brittany, Brittany…wait," he stammered.

She sat back. "What's wrong?" she asked, sticking the spoon back in the ice cream. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, no, I'm not mad," he reassured her quickly. He took her hands in both of his. "Brittany, boo…you know how you never thought about dating me because I was a capital G gay?"

"Mm-hm," she said. "And then you sang and you were so cute and snarly and then we made out and now you're my boyfriend."

"Yes, well…I still am capital G gay," he confessed.

Brittany just stared at him. "But we kiss all the time," she said.

"Yes, but I'm still gay," he whispered. "I'm…I'm really sorry, Britt, but I can't be your boyfriend anymore."

Her face fell. "But I like being your girlfriend," she said. "You're so nice and you smell good and you don't tease me when I say stupid things." She bit her lip. "Is that why you don't like me? Because I'm stupid?"

He squeezed her hand. "I don't think you're stupid," he said gently. "This isn't your fault. Not at all. I'm breaking up with you…because _I'm _stupid."

She drew back, wrinkling her nose and almost laughing. "You're not stupid," she said.

"Yes, I am," he sighed, resting his chin on his hand. "I tried to act like I liked girls so that…well, that part isn't important, but I was just pretending."

"Can't you keep pretending?" Brittany said.

Kurt smiled. "I don't think so," he said. "You deserve to find a nice boy who will love for you who you are."

Brittany smiled back. "Is that what you want too?" she asked.

Kurt stared at the slowly-melting ice cream. "Yes," he admitted. "I don't think I'll ever find one, though."

"If you can't, I'll help you look," Brittany said seriously. "I'm very good at finding things."

Kurt squeezed her knee. "Thanks, boo," he said.

Brittany took another bite of ice cream. "And when we find you a nice boy, he'll be really happy to have you," she said. "You're a very good kisser."

Kurt flushed. "Really?" he said. "Because, uh, I'm not very experienced, and I, um…"

Brittany smiled, tipped his chin towards her, and kissed him. Her lips were warm and soft and slightly sticky, and while kissing Brittany didn't bring up any nervous and excited butterflies, it was rather nice. She leaned back and smiled at him. "See?" she said. "You're a very good kisser."

Then she handed him a spoon. "Here. Let's eat ice cream and talk about boys."

He took the spoon she offered and took a bite of the sundae. "Mm, he's kind of cute," he said, pointing to a dark-haired boy with hazel eyes standing in line for a pretzel.

"I don't know, I think that one's cute," she said, using her spoon to point at the FYE store across the way.

"Brittany, that's a cardboard cutout of Speed Racer."

"Oh. Well, he's very cute. And he has a nice car."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Originally this was the first chapter...but then I felt like it needed a prologue! So there is now a prologue, and this is technically the second chapter.

At the moment I can't write much more of "Someday You Will Be Loved" because, well, it's a gap filler, and I don't have any new episodes to fill. I have to wait until the new episodes. BUT I NEED KLAINE.

But I was listening to Katy Perry at work one day, and I kept getting ideas for oneshots. And then I was like "well, shoot! Why not write a series of oneshots based on Katy Perry?"

So I sat down and plotted it out, and now...I am going to write a oneshot for every. Katy. Perry. song. Well, I'm only working with the songs on her One of the Boys and Teenage Dream albums. I'm not going to use any of her Katy Hudson songs, and if she comes out with any new singles before I finish this bad boy, I may or may not use them.

But yeah. I'm actually pretty excited about this. "PEACOCK" IS GOING TO BE HILARIOUS, Y'ALL. IMMA JUST SAYING.

I'm kind of sad that this didn't begin with Klaine right out of the gate, but when the song is titled "I Kissed a Girl," it's kind of hard to do that. But I thought it would be nice to see Blaine's coming-out-of-the-closet experience, and also to see how exactly Kurt ended his relationship with Brittany after the "Laryngitis" episode.

I'm so excited about this series, though, you guys. I mean, ordinarily I would just wait semi-patiently for the hiatus, but come on, I'm also writing "Knife Going In," and let's face it, if I couldn't go back and forth between fluff and angst, I would die. Simply die.

**Featured in the next chapter: "Ur So Gay"  
**


	3. Ur So Gay

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me. "Ur So Gay" belongs to Katy Perry.

* * *

I'm so mean because I cannot get you out of my head

I'm so angry because you'd rather MySpace instead

I can't believe I fell in love with someone who wears more makeup than...

You walk around like you're oh so debonair

You pull 'em down, and there's really nothing there

I wish you would just be real with me

You're so gay and you don't even like boys

No, you don't even like

No, you don't even like

No, you don't even like boys

-_"Ur So Gay"_

_

* * *

_

_April of 2010_

Blaine sighed heavily, resting his cheek on his hand while he stared at his dog-eared copy of _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_. The junior commons were quiet and peaceful for once, and he was grateful for the solitude. At the same time, though, it offered far too much opportunity for thinking. He sighed again and turned a page.

"He hasn't noticed us yet, Wes. Should we be concerned?"

"Oh, yes, David. We should be quite concerned."

Blaine glanced up as David and Wes sat down on the couch across from him. "Can I help you?" he inquired.

"We would like to know what's going on," David said.

"Nothing's going on," Blaine said, turning his attention back to his book.

Wes stuck his finger in the spine of the novel and tipped it down, forcing Blaine to look up from the page. "You can't lie to us, Mr. Anderson," he said. "You barely touched your bagel at breakfast this morning, and you didn't get any corn nuggets at lunch."

"You answered a question wrong in history class," David added.

"You barely sang during Warblers rehearsal this afternoon," Wes continued, drawing his eyebrows down in a fierce glower, as if this was the worst travesty he could imagine.

"And now you're reading Narnia, which we all know is your equivalent of a girl drowning her sorrows in a pint of Ben and Jerry's," David said.

Wes shook his head. "Blaine, Blaine, Blaine," he said. "Dapper, even when you mope."

"I'm not moping," Blaine mumbled.

"Yes, you are," David said. "Now please put down your literary comfort food and tell us what's bothering you."

Blaine sighed. "You really want to know?" he said.

"Yes," Wes said firmly. "We'd like to help."

Blaine put the book down. "Chad dumped me," he informed them.

It was actually sort of funny to watch the color drain from their faces. "Uh…" David stammered.

"Oh, God, boy troubles," Wes choked. "Uh…what are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know, what do you think we should do?"

Blaine shook his head. "Thanks for trying to help, you guys, but I'll be okay," he said. "It's not the first time I've dealt with a relationship ending."

"Wait a minute," Wes said, digging frantically in the pockets of his blazer. "Wait, wait, wait…wait." He pointed sharply at Blaine. "Don't you dare move. We'll be right back."

He grabbed David by the arm and dragged him out of the commons. "Wait, where are we going?" David protested.

Blaine turned back to his book, trying to focus on the page. But the words blurred, just a little bit, and he rubbed his eyes. _Back to the loneliness, I suppose, _he thought.

He read the same paragraph four times before Wes and David came back in, both of them smiling broadly. "All right," Wes said. "We know how we're going to fix you."

"Oh, really?" Blaine said, arching a thick eyebrow. "You're going to fix me? Wonderful. How do you plan to do that?"

"We've called our girlfriends," David said, looking quite pleased with himself. "We're going to swing by and pick them up, then we're going to take you out to distract you."

"Guys, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but-"

Wes looked Blaine up and down, appraising him. "You need to go change," he said. "Meet us at my car in fifteen minutes, dressed appropriately. If you're not there in fifteen minutes, we will knock down the door to your room and carry you out bodily."

"I would love to see you try that," Blaine smirked, turning back to his book. Wes and David grabbed him under his armpits and hoisted him off the couch. "Whoa!"

"God, I love how short you are," David said.

Blaine kicked at them. "I hate you both, you know that?" he said.

"And the dapper armor falls away," Wes said. They propelled towards his dorm room and gave him a push. "Change. Promptly return in fifteen minutes. Or we will do it for you."

Blaine straightened his tie. "I don't think you-"

David turned the knob, nudged the door open with his toe, and shoved Blaine inside. "Fifteen minutes!" he said, and he closed the door.

Blaine rolled his eyes. His roommate glanced up from his laptop. "What's happening in fifteen minutes?" Paul inquired.

Blaine shrugged out of his blazer and attacked the knot of his tie. "Those two imbeciles and their girlfriends are taking me somewhere," he said.

Paul continued to type his essay. "Is this about Chad?" he asked.

Blaine ripped the last button on his uniform shirt and threw it on the floor. "I don't want to talk about that," he said.

"Ah," Paul said. "This is about Chad."

"Don't want to talk about it, Paul," Blaine said through his teeth, rummaging in his drawers for something that wasn't Dalton related. He finally found a plain green tee shirt with buttons at the neck and yanked it over his head.

Paul didn't look up from his laptop, the light casting a weird glow over his face. "So where are they dragging you?" he asked.

"No clue," Blaine sighed, wrestling out of his uniform slacks and into a pair of jeans. "But if their girlfriends are involved, it could mean anything."

"Well, have fun," Paul said, sifting absently through his pages of history notes. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Oh, like that's a real standard," Blaine said as he stuffed his feet in his Converses and clumsily tied the laces. He picked up a jacket from his closet, making the hanger swing back and forth. "I'll be back."

"Don't come back with a boy," Paul called. "My heart can only withstand the shock of walking in on a makeout session so many times."

"That was just once," Blaine called back before the door swung shut.

He wrestled his arms into the sleeves of his jacket as he walked down the hall. Going out with two happy couples when he was newly single didn't seem like the best of ideas, but maybe it at least would be good to get away from Dalton for a little while.

Wes and David were leaning against Wes's white Ford Explorer when he got to the parking lot. "Well, there he is," David grinned. "We were worried we would have to come in after you."

Blaine raised his hands in surrender. "I'm here, I'm here," he said. "Now, where are you taking me?"

"First to St. Liliana's to get the girls," Wes said. He opened the seat to the back door and ushered Blaine inside. "Then, we travel to an undisclosed location."

"Fantastic," Blaine mumbled.

He sat by himself in the backseat as Wes drove them off campus towards the girls' school. It was only about a ten minute drive; he leaned his forehead against the window and zoned out of their conversation.

Wes pulled into the circular front drive to St. Liliana's and honked twice. The two girls sitting on the bench outside the school did not seem amused.

David rolled down his windows. "Hello, ladies, we've come to fetch you," he called.

"That's more like it," his petite redheaded girlfriend called back, popping off the bench and shouldering her oversized bag. She paused outside the window to kiss him, then climbed into the backseat and sliding into the center seat beside Blaine. "Hey, there."

"Hey, Lucy," he said.

"You should know by now, Wesley, that I don't respond to horn honking," Wes's blonde girlfriend said, scowling as she sat down in the backseat beside Lucy.

Wes leaned back dramatically. "And you should know by now, Joanna, that I like to get you riled up," he grinned. "But now that we have everyone…let's go!"

Jo leaned over Lucy and squeezed Blaine's knee. "How are you holding up?" she asked.

"Fine," he sighed. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"We can talk later," Lucy said. "We have more important things to do first." She shifted her bag, smacking Blaine in the calf.

"Ow," he yelped. "What do you have in there, a bowling ball?"

She laughed. "Not quite," she said. "You'll see."

Blaine endured the thirty minute ride to their undisclosed location. He loved his friends, he really did, and he knew they were only trying to help, but he had hoped their help would extend to a friendly pat on the shoulder and a little verbal sympathy, not getting locked in an overly warm SUV with happy people singing along to very loud, very annoying music. Wes might be able to piece together impeccable setlists, but that didn't mean he had good taste when it came to his personal iPod.

They finally pulled up to a sprawling square complex with gaudy neon letters emblazoned over the doors. "All right, ladies and gentlemen, we've arrived," David said cheerfully. "Everybody out."

Blaine climbed out of the car and stared dismally at the giant letters across the door. "Roller skating?" he said. "You're going to cheer me up by taking me roller skating?"

"Oh, come on, you'll be fun," Jo said, linking her arm through his.

"We have vastly different ideas about what constitutes as fun," Blaine said.

Despite his attempts to protest, his friends dragged him inside, paid for his entry, and rented him a pair of skates. He studied them cautiously. "Are these going to fall apart the second I try to move?" he asked.

"Aw, who knows?" Wes said as he exchanged his sneakers for skates. "Just put them on."

Lucy pulled a pair of roller skates out of her bag. Both the laces and the wheels were pink and glittery. "This is why I have my own," she said.

Blaine grinned. "You would," he said. He tightened the laces, tied them in a snug bow, and stood up carefully. "All right. I'm all wheeled up. Somebody get me out there."

"I'd help, but I don't think I'll be much use," David said, sliding cautiously over the ratty carpet. The second his wheels reached the slick rink floor he tumbled backwards with a whoop and a heavy thud.

Wes snickered as he wobbled to his feet. "Okay, Jo, come on, get up," he said, holding out his hands.

Jo crossed one leg over the other and folded her arms. "I agreed to this so we could get Blaine to stop moping," she said.

"I wasn't moping!" Blaine protested, skidding a little as he tried to retain his balance.

"But I am _not _getting out there," she finished.

Wes stuck out his lower lip. "Come on, Joey," he said. "Come skate with me."

"No," she said flatly. "I will have a good enough time watching the rest of you falling on your asses without me adding to it."

Lucy stood up gracefully. "Someone skate with me," she said. David held out his hand. "Oh, not you."

"But I'm your boyfriend," he said.

"Yes, but you can barely keep your balance when you're standing on solid ground," Lucy said. She grabbed Blaine by the hand. "Come on, let's go."

He skidded onto the rink, his free arm flailing ungallantly as he struggled to stay up. "Lucy," he warned. "Lucy, Lucy…_Louisa, _slow down!"

She turned to skate backwards, still holding his hand. "Don't call me Louisa," she sighed. "Here, if I slow down, will you stop fussing?"

"I wasn't fussing, I was trying to keep you from knocking me onto my face," he said.

She let go of his hand. "Just try to keep up," she said, and she pushed off the railing.

Blaine followed her clumsily, his rental skates clunking as he rolled across the rink. At first he tried to keep up with Lucy, who zipped in and out of the crowds easily, but after a while he got used to the feeling of the wheels and he took off at his own pace. He skated around the rink, laughing at the antics of Wes and David, who could barely go a few yards at a time before falling over. Lucy passed by him several times, her pink skate wheels sparkling under the disco lights overhead. The rink wasn't too crowded; there were about a dozen other teenagers and a handful of younger kids skating around, but none of them bothered him.

He skated for an hour or two, until finally Jo leaned over the railing and got their attention. "You guys, I'm hungry," she called. "Want to take a break for a little bit?"

"Yes," Wes said gratefully. "Oh, yes. A break is fantastic."

Lucy skated towards Jo and hopped easily onto the carpet. "I would kill for a Sprite right about now," she said.

Blaine tripped over the step. "I have similar sentiments," he said, dropping heavily into a chair next to Jo. "I didn't realize skating was so strenuous."

"I didn't realize it could be so _painful,_" David complained, plunking heavily into his seat.

"Poor baby," Lucy crooned, kissing him on the temple.

"I took the liberty of ordering us what is probably going to be a very crappy pizza," Jo said. "As well as onion rings and mozzarella sticks, because I know that's how you boys roll."

"Oh, thank you, you blessed woman," Wes sighed.

Blaine leaned back in his chair, flexing his tired feet within the confines of his skates, and smiled as he listened to the back and forth of conversation. The five of them chatted amiably through dinner, and it wasn't until most of the pizza was gone that Jo dropped the bomb. "So let's talk about Chad," she said.

Blaine groaned. "Must we?" he said. "I thought the point of you people dragging me out to this godforsaken roller rink was to cheer me up."

"It is," Wes said, pulling the cheese out of a mozzarella stick. "Your moping was disturbing."

"So how will it make things better if you just make me talk about my ex?" Blaine asked.

"Because this is the third time in the past two years that you've endured a miserable relationship and an even more miserable breakup after only a few months," David pointed out.

"Alex and I weren't actually dating," Blaine defended. "That doesn't count."

"You were practically dating," Lucy said.

"And my relationships aren't all miserable," Blaine argued. "Sure, they haven't always been perfect, but they haven't been _miserable_."

"I don't know, Jack upset you pretty badly," Wes said.

Blaine threw his straw wrapper on the table. "That's because he was cheating on me," he said.

"And it ended with Alex when he got drunk at that cookout and started calling you names in front of your sister," David said. "On the upside, it was pretty funny when Francey pushed him in the pool. For a ifeguard, he sure was a crappy swimmer."

"So how did it end with Chad?" Jo asked.

Blaine fiddled with the end of the straw wrapper. "Chad's not exactly gay, he's bi," he said quietly. "And he left me for a girl."

He didn't look up. His friends were silent.

"He told me that…he had been attracted to guys, but he had never…you know, dated one," Blaine said. He sighed. "I was an experiment. Obviously, a failed one."

Jo put her hand over Blaine's. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He dragged his hand over his face, exhaling sharply. "We dated for three months," he said. "Three months, and he decided he didn't even like me in the first place."

David's mouth was still agape. "That jackass!" he exclaimed.

"Oh my god, you made him swear," Lucy said.

"But…but…we were all so sure he was gay," David sputtered.

Blaine raised and lowered one shoulder. "So was I," he said. "He told me it was…just a phase."

Wes shook his head. "Good riddance," he said. "You deserve a lot better than someone like that."

"You do realize that we all hated him," Lucy said.

"He never wanted to hang out with us," David said.

"He made fun of your sister," Jo added.

"He didn't like music and never came to see you perform," Wes said.

"You couldn't ever have an intelligent conversation with him."

"He made you go to all of those parties with his friends."

"He was always cracking those rude jokes that nobody could laugh at."

"We knew he was pressuring you into things."

"I get it," Blaine said, wadding up his napkin and throwing it viciously onto the table. "You're all right, okay? And I knew I shouldn't keep dating him. I thought about breaking up with him, but…"

"But what?" David asked.

Blaine stared at the skaters whizzing past. "It's not like I'm surrounded by all sorts of other options," he said. "Being with Chad was better than being alone."

Jo took his hand. "Sweetheart, he was _awful _for you," she said. "Why did you stay with him?"

"I figured I could date him, at least casually, until I met someone else," Blaine shrugged.

"That's cheating," Wes said.

"Not exactly," Blaine defended.

"It's close enough," David said.

Blaine rested his chin in his hand. "I know," he said softly. "I just…it's so hard, you know? To be surrounded by couples while you have to stare down the knowledge that you might possibly be alone for the rest of your life."

Jo squeezed his hand. "Blaine, it's better to be single than to be trapped in a toxic relationship," she said firmly. "Now, we will do whatever we can to help you, but we refuse to stand by and watch you date guys that clearly aren't worthy of you." She smiled and nudged his shoulder. "Have some standards, why don't you?"

He smiled wryly. "I'll try," he said.

"The first thing is to date guys who aren't named Chad," Wes said. "Don't you know that 'Chad' is the douchiest of all douchebag names?"

"He wore his sunglasses indoors," Lucy said. "At night."

"He played obnoxiously loud hiphop with the car windows rolled down every time he came to pick you up," Wes said.

"He wore pastel polo shirts with the collars popped," Jo pointed out. "And sometimes he would wear two polos at a time so he could pop both collars."

Blaine threw up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right, I get it," he said. "Chad was a douchecanoe and I should've never dated him."

"That's more like it," Jo grinned. "Now, what kind of guy _are _you interested in?"

Wes choked on his Coke and David pounded him on the back. "Okay, this might be a bit of oversharing," he coughed.

"No, it's not," Lucy said, leaning forward with her chin on her hands. "Don't hold back. What is your absolute ideal guy?"

"I don't know," Blaine hedged.

"Liar," Jo said. "You know exactly what you're looking for. Everybody does. So spill. Describe your dream guy?"

"I don't know," Blaine said slowly, stirring his straw in his Dr. Pepper. "Kind. Compassionate. Loving."

"Is this a man, or a Hallmark greeting card?" David scoffed.

"Details, Anderson, details," Jo said.

Blaine kept stirring the red straw in his soda, watching the bubbles. "A nice smile," he said. "Smart. Funny, maybe even a little on the sarcastic side." He sighed, smiling faintly into his drink. "Affectionate. Sweet. Likes a lot of the same things I like. Not too much of a troublemaker, but not a total goody-two-shoes either."

Jo waved her hand. "These are all well and good, but what do you want him to look like?" she asked. "Are you a Zefron man, or perhaps Jon Hamm, or Joseph Gordon-Levitt…"

"JGL is good," Blaine admitted. "Pretty close. He's got cute dimples. I'm a sucker for those."

Wes leaned over to David. "Who's he?" he whispered.

Lucy leaned between them. "The guy who got epically dumped in 500 Days of Summer," she explained.

"Oh," Wes said. "Yeah…I guess he's uh, pretty cute. For a guy."

"But who would be perfect?" Jo pressed.

Blaine trailed his finger down the side of his soda glass and mumbled something under his breath.

"I'm sorry, who's 'Memiel'?" David inquired.

"Jamie Bell," Blaine said, feeling his cheeks heating a little bit.

"The little British kid who wanted to dance?" Lucy said. "Billy Elliot?"

"He's very grown up and very attractive," Blaine said.

A wicked grin spread across Jo's face. "What kind of attractive?" she inquired.

Blaine sighed. "Blue eyes, probably a brunet, maybe a redhead," he said. "Really nice smile. Not terribly muscular…more like just sculpted. Oh, and around my height."

"And with dimples?" Lucy said.

"Yes, Louisa, with dimples," Blaine said. "Now are we done with this train of conversation?"

"Just one more question," Wes said. "If that's your ideal man, then why were you dating a rude, arrogant, poorly tanned, bleach blond egomaniac like Chad?"

"Better than being alone, I guess," he shrugged. He got up from the table, his roller skates sliding around a little. "I'm going to go skate. Anyone with me?"

Blaine didn't wait to see if anyone followed him, but he heard the clacking of wheels from behind. He fumbled a little bit as he made his way back onto the rink, but before long he was rolling around smoothly again.

Lucy glided up to him, her head barely reaching his shoulder but her legs matching his stride-for-stride. "Are you upset?" she asked.

"A little, but I'll be fine," he said.

They skated in silence for a while, surrounded by laughing teenagers and giggling little kids, and slowly the tension drained from his shoulders. But just as he was starting to feel better, the music changed.

"All right, girls and boys, it's time for a couples' skate!" the petite blonde proprietor chirped over the squealing PA system.

The floor quickly cleared out as couples paired up, grabbing hands and rolling together around the rink. "Go find David," Blaine said.

"What about you?" she asked.

He smiled. "I've missed plenty of these before," he said. "One more won't kill me."

"Oh, come on," Lucy said. She scanned the rink. "I'm sure you could ask somebody to skate. I mean…that boy's sitting by himself. And he's awfully cute. Looks like he's your type."

He smiled as they rounded back towards the others. "Really, Lucy, I'm fine," he said. "Now go hold David's hand before he faceplants again."

"Oh, mercy," Lucy sighed, skating quickly to her uncoordinated boyfriend.

Blaine sat down at the side of the rink, laughing as he watched his friends. David scooted along while he clung desperately to Lucy's hands, trying to keep his balance. Jo strolled alongside the rink next to Wes, who held onto the railing on the edge. They both looked so happy with each other, even with all their little faults and quirks.

He sat on the edge and watched the couples roll past. Only a few people sat out, mostly little kids who thought that holding hands meant a cootie infestation.

Blaine spotted the boy Lucy had pointed out. He sat on the sidelines next to a pretty black girl, watching the couples go by. He was maybe fifteen, possibly sixteen, dressed in a red and white cheerleading uniform. There was something sad about the way his shoulders slumped, like he was lonely too.

Blaine entered the thought of crossing the rink and asking him to skate. But no, he would probably just laugh and turn him down. So he just sat on the sidelines for the millionth time, idly imagining how amazing his life would be if the perfect boyfriend would just walk right up to him.

Like that would ever happen.

* * *

_September of 2010_

"Kurt! Door!"

He glanced up from his copy of Vogue. "In a second, Dad," he called. "Busy with homework. Be right there."

His dad didn't say anything else, but he heard the door to his bedroom open, and then footsteps on the stairs. He quickly stowed his magazine under his pillow and scrambled to open his biology textbook.

"Dad, you shouldn't be up, you have to-"

But it wasn't his father. Mercedes stood at the foot of the stairs, smiling apologetically and hugging the strap of a large tote bag over her shoulder. "Hey," she said.

He blinked. "Hi," he said.

She stepped a little closer. "I brought Mean Girls," she said. "And I've got a new issue of OK Magazine and sharpies so we can play Perez Hilton. And a bag of York Peppermint Patties."

He bit his lip. "All the things that make me feel better," he quipped. "But I don't understand. Why do I need the patented Kurtcedes comfort kit?"

"Because I wasn't a really good friend lately," she confessed. "I should have sung the duet with you."

"No, Mercedes, you and Santana were fabulous," he said, sitting up cross-legged on his bed. "And really, you two had a real shot at winning."

She shifted from one foot to the other. "If that blond Ken doll was supposed to win, it should have been with you," she said. "I wish I had known that he bailed on you, otherwise I would have taken him down myself and made him sing with you."

He smiled down at his ankles. "I don't doubt that, Mercedes, but Sam didn't bail on me," he said softly. "I turned him loose."

She slid her bag off her shoulder, crossed her arms, and arched one eyebrow. "Say what now?" she said.

Kurt shrugged, still staring down at the bed. "Well, you know," he said. "It would be awkward singing with him. Seeing as how he's…you know. Not gay." He offered her a wry smile.

But Mercedes was not fooled. She kicked off her shoes and walked over to him, looking him up and down skeptically. "Why does that matter?" she asked.

"Because he's the new kid, and if he had sung that solo with me, everyone would think he was gay, and then they would make his life as miserable as…" His voice trailed off.

"As what?" Mercedes pressed.

Kurt sighed. "As mine," he said.

Mercedes' eyes softened. "Honey, it isn't that bad, is it?" she said, leaning over the footboard of his bed.

He trailed his finger along the embroidered pattern of his satin comforter. "It can be," he admitted. He laughed. "I mean, if Rachel Berry sings a pity duet with me…"

"That was a pity duet?" Mercedes asked. "I was wondering how that happened. I mean, you two were great, but it seemed so weird. You…and Rachel…actually singing together."

"She offered to sing with me, and I took her up on it," Kurt said.

Mercedes narrowed her gaze. "It was her idea?" she said. "Girl is stooping low, tricking you into singing with her just to get more performance time. How'd she sweet talk you into that?"

He crossed his arms over his stomach and stared studiously at the comforter. "She didn't do it for her," he said. "She did it for me, because…because I'm lonely."

Mercedes gaped at him. "What?" he said.

"Well, you know," he hedged, trying to play it off. "I'm not dating anyone, and even when I think I might have a chance to date someone, it turns out they're not really gay, and…and you were off practicing with Santana, and Tina was with Mike, and Brittany was, inexplicably, singing with Artie all week, and I…" He took a deep, slightly shaking breath. "I spent my week alone in the auditorium, singing by myself."

Mercedes edged a little closer. "There's more, isn't there?" she said.

He swallowed hard. "My dad almost died," he whispered. "I already lost my mom, I almost lost him, and…and now _I'm _the parent. I have to take care of him, all by myself, and I…"

He couldn't speak anymore. Mercedes sat down beside him and wrapped her arms around his suddenly trembling shoulders. "I'm sorry baby," she murmured.

He buried his face in his hands. "I'm just tired of feeling like this all the time," he burst out, his voice muffled.

"I know," she said, hugging him tightly. "I'm so sorry, Kurt."

He leaned against her shoulder, striving to keep the tears back. "It sucks," he burst out. "I hate feeling like I have to rely so heavily on other people."

She laughed a little. "Baby, I don't think you rely on people enough," she said, rubbing his upper arms. "If you were feeling lonely, why didn't you talk to somebody?"

"I don't know what to say," he said helplessly. "And when I tried to talk about Sam, everybody just shot me down."

She sat back. "Oh," she said in a small voice. "I'm sorry, baby. I guess I didn't help with that."

"It's all right," he said, rubbing his eyes. "And anyways, you're right. I might have thought that Sam was gay, but seeing as how he and Quinn couldn't stop with the eyesex during our last rehearsal, I was wrong." He sniffed hard. "He does dye his hair, though."

"You're probably right about that," Mercedes said.

Kurt laughed, the sound catching in his throat. "Do you know what the saddest part is?" he said.

"What?" she asked.

"I don't even _like _Sam," he wailed. "I mean, I don't _like _like him. He's _totally _not my type, but if he was gay I would date him in a heartbeat, just so I could have a…a boyfriend!"

She rubbed his back. "Honey, it's not that bad to get through high school without dating," she said. "It's not the end of the world. Maybe you'll find someone in college." She grinned. "That's what I always tell myself."

"It's different for you," he said, still dashing at his eyes. "There's no shortage of straight guys. And no one will stare at you if you go out in public with him." He took a deep breath. "I don't think anyone's ever going to fall in love with me."

"Hey, don't say that," she said sharply. He looked away. "You are so sweet, and smart, and funny, and crazy talented. And you're not so bad to look at either."

"But I'm _gay_," he protested. "I don't know if I'll ever find a guy who will ever fall in love with me."

Mercedes leaned back against the headboard. "Your life won't end if you don't get kissed in high school, sweetheart," she said.

Kurt sighed. "It's not even that, kisses and things," he said. "I just…I want someone to hold my hand, and put his hand on my back when he thinks I'm going to trip, and wrap his arm around me while we watch movies, and call me ridiculously stupid pet names that I pretend to hate." He rubbed his eyes. "And I don't think I'll ever find that!"

She reached over and stroked his back. "You don't know that," she soothed.

He wrapped his arms around his stomach. "Maybe I'll find someone," he said. "But I'll probably have to settle."

"No," Mercedes scolded. "Nah-uh. There is no way I'll let you settle, Kurt Hummel."

"You haven't seen my list," he said ruefully. "My standards are set rather high."

She raised an eyebrow. "How high we talking?" she asked.

Kurt leaned over, opened his nightstand drawer, and pulled out a notebook. "Don't laugh," he said sternly.

She held up the battered spiral notebook. "The Little Mermaid, Kurt?" she said, pointing to the picture of the smiling prince and princess on the cover.

"I started this list when I was twelve," he defended.

She shook her head and opened to the first page. "Number one: he has to be gay," she read. "Well. Standards are not very high to begin with."

"Keep reading," he sighed.

Mercedes scanned through his list, smiling over some like "number eighty-two: won't ever cook green beans" and "number twenty-four: won't mess up my hair," and sighed over others like "number forty-seven: has nice big hands that hold onto mine really tight" and "number one hundred twenty-one: has to want kids."

She glanced down at him, sprawled over his bed with his chin resting on his folded forearms. "You want kids?" she said.

"Uh-huh," he said, almost dreamily. "I want babies. A girl and a boy."

"And I get to be the godmother, right?" Mercedes said.

Kurt rolled over onto his back. "Of course," he grinned. He sighed. "I'll probably never get married. I'll just go to school in New York, work in fashion or theater or something until I'm thirty-five, and then start adopting kids on my own."

Mercedes nudged him. "Stop it. You're depressing me," she said. She closed the notebook and handed it over. "You've made a good list. Stick to it. If you find a guy that doesn't meet up your standards, he's not worth it."

Kurt hugged the notebook to his chest. "You really think so?" he said.

"I do," she reassured him.

"And you think I'll find him?" he said, his voice small and tentative.

She smiled and squeezed his knee. "I do," she said. "I really do." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You want to watch the movie now?"

"Yes," he said gratefully. "There is never a bad time for Mean Girls."

It was almost an hour later, when Lindsay Lohan was knee-deep in Plastics sabotage and the bed was scattered with empty York peppermint patty wrappers and Mercedes was snickering as she drew a mustache on Taylor Swift's face, that Kurt felt a rebellious tear drip down his cheek.

He loved Mercedes, he really did. And he really appreciated her bringing over movies and candy and distractions. It meant a lot.

But he still really wished he could snuggle with a handsome boy, who would clasp his big hands around his smaller ones and kiss the back of his neck and make him feel like he wouldn't ever be lonely again.

Like that would ever happen.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Ugh, this is my least favorite Katy Perry song. It's so mean and nasty. And downright impossible to come up with a good plot! I hope this works, though. I'm just glad that I can move on to different songs...and I can move on to having them interact, instead of these sad, pining sort of drabbles.

Also, I have NO CLUE how old these children are supposed to be. No clue. I've heard tell they've been retconned, so at this point, who knows? But for the purposes of this story, Blaine is a grade ahead of Kurt.

The thing about Blaine seeing Narnia as his literary comfort food is going to become a running gag. Just so you know. I have an entire plot bunny for that involving Blaine coming down with a cold and Francey calls Kurt and is all like "YOUR BOYFRIEND IS BEING A PAIN IN THE ASS AND I'M TIRED OF WATCHING NARNIA WITH HIM COME BABYSIT BEFORE I KILL HIM KTHNXBAI" and Kurt's all like "...Narnia?"

Jo and Lucy are back! I introduced them in "Awesome and Delicious and Now at Dalton" and it looks like they're going to be popping up all over the place now. OCs, I hate you for never leaving me alone. Especially you, Mollie. Especially you...

The Blaine half of this takes place during the episode "Home" in season one, when Will trundles New Directions off to April Rhodes' skating rink. So that's totally Kurt that he didn't talk to. And yes, Blaine was the dark-haired boy getting a pretzel at the mall in the previous chapter...huzzah, foreshadowing.

(insert ubiquitous AVPM reference about Hermione, ha ha ha, moving on...)

The Kurt half takes place right after "Duets." Kurt just breaks my heart in that episode. HE'S SO LONELY SOMEONE PLEASE GO LOVE ON HIM. (But it's okay, because now he has Blaaaaaaaine.)

I also wanted to depict Mercedes as a little more loving towards Kurt. They're not as attached-at-the-hip as they were in the first season, but they're still best friends. And I think that she would notice something was wrong and try to cheer him up.

I went with the "I keep falling in love with straight guys" theme because, well, that's what Kurt does. First Finn, then Sam. Imagine how depressed he'd be if he had asked if Blaine, Wes, and David were gay and Blaine had been all "no, actually, why do you ask?" Ugh. Such sadness. And then I tried to come up with Blaine's plot thread, and in an earlier oneshot ("Espionage," I think) I mention two exes of his. But Blaine keeps dating egotistical jerks. STOP DATING EGOTISTICAL JERKS, BLAINE, ENOUGH WITH THE DESPERATION ALREADY. JUST WAIT, YOU'LL GET KURT.

Also, I really want to write a oneshot with Kurt and Blaine where Kurt is like "um, my biological clock is ticking, let's have a baby." That would be so fun.

WHY ARE MY AUTHOR'S NOTES SO EFFING LONG?

Oh, well. I hope you liked this! Let me know if you did!

**Next chapter: "If We Ever Meet Again"**


	4. If We Ever Meet Again

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.

* * *

Do you come here much? I swear I've seen your face before

Hope you don't see me blush, but I can't help but want you more

Baby, tell me, what's your story? I ain't shy, don't you worry

I'm flirting with my eyes, wanna leave with you tonight

So do you come here much? I gotta see your face some more

I'll never be the same, if we ever meet again

Won't let you get away if we ever meet again

This free fall's got me so kiss me all night, don't ever let me go

I'll never be the same if we ever meet again.

-_"If We Ever Meet Again"_

_

* * *

_

Kurt slipped into the back of his history classroom, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Unfortunately, he wasn't very good at being sneaky.

"Mr. Hummel," the teacher said sharply. "Care to explain your tardiness?"

"Oh," he said, halting a few feet away from his desk. "I had car trouble. I'm so sorry. It won't happen again."

"See that it does," the teacher said.

Kurt scurried to his desk and quickly unpacked his bookbag as the teacher turned back to the board and droned about the Civil War. He flipped his notebook to a blank page, but paused, pen poised above the paper, when he heard someone clear their throat softly.

He glanced to the side. Mercedes had her arms crossed, an eyebrow raised, and her lips pursed in a clearly put-out expression. "Where have you been all morning?" she whispered.

Kurt whipped back and forth between trying to copy down the notes on the battle of Antietam and appeasing Mercedes. "Long story," he mouthed.

Mercedes did not look pleased. "Tell me what's up," she whispered.

He shook his head. "Later."

"What are you up to?" she whispered.

"Miss Jones! If you keep talking in my class, I'm going to have to write you up," the teacher threatened.

Mercedes sat up and folded her hands. "I'm sorry," she said, flashing an angelic smile. The teacher turned around, but Mercedes shot another sharp look in Kurt's direction, a look that clearly said _I am going to drag this story out of you whether you like it or not._

He gulped. This was going to be interesting to explain.

At the first ring of the bell he dumped his belongings in his messenger bag and moved to bolt. Mercedes grabbed him by the arm. "Oh, no, you don't," she said. She shouldered her backpack and linked her arm through his. "Why were you late? And don't you dare tell me it was car trouble. You've been tinkering with engines since you were old enough to toddle."

He sighed. "It was not car trouble," he admitted.

"Then where were you?" she pressed.

He bit his lip as they walked towards their lockers. "You can't tell anyone," he hedged.

"I won't, I won't, just tell me," she begged.

He paused for dramatic effect and leaned against his locker. "I went to Dalton Academy this morning," he said.

Mercedes' eyes widened. "You did _what _now?" she demanded, her voice rising.

"Sh!" he said, bouncing on his toes. "You can't tell. I'll get in trouble."

"Oh, you are making this up," Mercedes scoffed.

He huffed, blowing his hair out of his eyes. "You don't believe me?" he said.

"Honey, you are the epitome of a good boy," she said. "You're so good that the baddest thing you can think of is causing a disturbance in the library."

He pouted. "It's pretty bad," he protested.

"Only for the Amish," she grinned. "So what did you really do?"

"I told you," he said, twirling the combination on his locker. "I drove to Dalton Academy, infiltrated their student body, and observed a performance of the Warblers firsthand."

"Nah-uh," she breathed.

"Yeah-huh," he countered.

Mercedes leaned against the locker next to his. "You're kidding me!" she said. "Tell me everything! What are they like?"

"They are entirely a capella," he reported. "All boys. The harmonies are so dreamy you wouldn't believe it."

"What songs did they do?" she asked.

He rummaged through his locker. "I only stayed for their first number," he said. "They did 'Teenage Dream' by Katy Perry."

"Oh _hell _no!" she said. "Are you serious? We would never be able to talk Mr. Schue into doing something like that."

"They were phenomenal," he sighed. "He was…they were the most engaging performers I've ever seen."

"He?" Mercedes repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Oh my god. Did you meet someone?"

"No," he said, his voice rising a little.

She smacked him playfully on the butt, making him squeak in surprise. "You are totally holding out on me," she said. "Who is? Did you talk to him?"

Kurt sighed deeply. "His name is Blaine…"

"Blaine? That's not a name, that's a kitchen appliance," she snorted. He stuck out his tongue. "Go on, tell me about him."

"He's the lead singer for the Warblers," he said, stuffing his history textbook in his locker. "I didn't know it when I talked to him, though."

"You talked to him?" Mercedes exclaimed.

"Just for a minute," he said. "I got his attention on the stairs and he…walked me over to the commons where they were performing."

"So he's nice and he's talented," Mercedes said. "Is he cute too?"

Kurt leaned into his locker. "I think I have a spare pen in here somewhere," he mumbled to himself.

"Spill!" Mercedes said. "Hummel, if you don't give me details, I'm going to mix Nair in your shampoo bottle."

"About my height, dark hair, dark eyes, really nice hands," he blurted out. "There. Are you satisfied?" "Almost," she said. "Is he gay? Because you don't need another Finn or Sam situation up in here."

He sighed. "I don't know," he admitted. "I've been trying not to think about it." He pulled his English binder out of his locker. "But…he might…he might actually be gay."

"Why? Is this another hair suspicion?" she said warily. "Baby, I can't keep putting the pieces of your heart back together if you keep falling in love with straight boys."

"It's not his hair," Kurt said. He gripped the door of his locker. "He held my hand when he walked me to the senior commons."

"Is that for real?" Mercedes said. "Because you might actually be right about this."

He closed his locker. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I'll never see him again. I mean, I'll see him perform at sectionals, but I doubt he'll remember me."

"Why don't you go back to Dalton?" Mercedes suggested.

He gaped at her. "Are you serious?" he said. "It was hard enough sneaking out of school for this. I can't do it again."

"C'mon, live a little," she grinned. "No one would ever suspect you to be skipping school. And besides, if you like this boy, you should at least talk to him again. Maybe find out his last name, friend him on Facebook. See where it goes."

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe."

"Well, if you do, let me help you plan your outfit," she grinned, flipping the lapel of his blazer. "You look like someone's schoolboy fetish gone wrong."

"I love these boots," he said. "You helped me pick these boots out."

"Yes, but I never gave you permission to wear them with bondage shorts," she said. "I'll see you at lunch, okay? We'll plan your fabulous outfit then."

"Sure," he said. "But I'm still not sure if I'll go back."

Mercedes laughed and strolled away. Kurt slid his binder in his messenger bag and turned in the opposite direction towards his English class.

A hand flew out of nowhere and shoved him in the collarbone, ramming into the lockers. His head bounced off the metal door. "Sup, homo?" Karofsky sneered.

Kurt flattened against the wall, gasping for the breath that had been knocked out of him. By the time he could summon enough air to shoot a reply back he was gone, vanished in a rapidly thinning crowd of students.

Kurt touched the back of his head gingerly. No blood this time, thank goodness, but he could already feel a nasty migraine forming. For a moment he thought wistfully of a school where no one gave him funny looks, where he didn't feel like there was a target drawn on his back, where a boy could hold his hand and no one would think twice about it.

His heart gave a funny leap at the thought of Blaine's big warm hand closing over his and the brightness in his eyes when he sang, as if he was purposefully trying to catch his gaze. _Maybe I will see him again, _he thought.

* * *

"Blaine! Hey, Blaine!"

He stifled a sigh as he surveyed the Dalton dining hall. Wes and David waved anxiously at him. "I've got to face them at some point," he mumbled to himself, and he reluctantly carried his tray towards them.

"Hey, guys," he said pleasantly as he sat down across from them. "How have classes been today?"

"Eh, they were fine," Wes said, waving his hand dismissively. "Where's the McKinley boy?"

"You mean Kurt?" Blaine said, dumping sour cream over his baked potato. "Back at his own school, I suppose."

"Is he all right?" David asked. "He seemed so upset."

"I've never seen someone tear up so quickly at the mention of a zero-tolerance harassment policy," Wes said.

Blaine sighed. "He's having a lot of trouble at his school," he said. "Apparently there's some jerk that's made it his life work to make him miserable."

"What kind of miserable?" David asked. "Is he in danger?"

"I don't think so, but…I'm not sure," Blaine said. He mashed the insides of his potato around with his fork, but he didn't bother to eat any of it. "It's obviously pretty bad, though, if he's willing to spill his guts to a complete stranger."

"I'm guessing he's gay?" Wes said.

"He said he's the only out kid at his school," Blaine admitted. He sighed, resting his cheek on his hand. "I gave him some advice, but I don't even remember what I said. Something about courage and standing up to his bullies. Stupid stuff like that."

"That's all you did?" David said. "Spout some platitudes and send him on his way?"

"Well, not quite," Blaine said. He concentrated on his baked potato. "I gave him my number."

He took a bite and glanced up. Wes and David stared at him. "What?" he asked.

"You gave him your phone number?" Wes said. "You gave him your number."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Yes, Wesley, I gave him my number," he said. "I told him he could call me if he needed anything, or just needed to talk to someone about what's going on."

"Blaine, this is a bigger deal than you think," David said. "You just gave your phone number to another boy who is also gay."

"So?"

"So this can easily be construed as flirting," Wes said.

"I'm not flirting with him!" Blaine protested. "He needs someone he can talk to who understands what he's going through."

"You're not flirting?" David said. "Then what was with all of the eyesex during the performance yesterday?"

"You know what, I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Blaine said coolly, turning back to his lunch.

"Oh, come on," Wes scoffed. "We all saw it. You come sauntering in with the McKinley boy-"

"-holding his hand, I might add," David cut in.

"And then you spend the entire song gazing into his pretty blue eyes," Wes said. "If he was a girl, you could have gotten him pregnant just with all of that eye sexing."

Blaine brandished his fork in Wes's face. "Now you're just being ridiculous," he said.

"You can't deny it," David teased. "You like that boy."

Blaine jabbed his fork in his potato. "There might be some…attraction," he said reluctantly. "But the last thing Kurt needs is a boyfriend. I just want to help him. You know. Be a mentor to him."

"Yeah, the most inappropriate mentor ever," Wes snickered. Blaine just rolled his eyes again.

"So did he give you his number?" David asked.

"He did," Blaine said. "I don't think I'll call him, though."

"Why not?" Wes asked.

Blaine shrugged. "It doesn't seem like the sort of thing a mentor would to," he said, almost slyly. "I figure that if he needs to talk to me, he'll call."

"Do you think he will?" David asked.

"I really don't know," Blaine said. "Probably not. I'll leave it up to him."

"Well," Wes drawled, "maybe you don't have to call him, but you could always text him."

"Why would I do that?" Blaine said.

"Think about it," David said. "You could just send him a message every so often. You know. Something encouraging that'll keep you on the forefront of his mind."

"You mean flirt with him," Blaine said flatly.

"No, no, just encourage him," David said.

"But yeah, it's kind of flirting," Wes said.

Blaine shook his head and looked down at his phone. His contact list was still open, and he gazed down at Kurt's number.

_I never got his last name, _he realized as Wes and David argued about what kind of text messages Blaine should send. _I'll probably never know what it is._

Maybe he should send him a text or something.

* * *

Kurt jumped as someone grabbed hold of his arm. "Leave me alone," he said, trying to pull away.

"Dude, Kurt, it's just me," Finn said. He dropped his hand. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Kurt said, shouldering his bag. "Do you need something?"

Finn shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked.

Kurt brushed past him and headed down the hallway. "I have to go to class," he said in a low voice.

Finn took him by the arm again, this time a little more gently, and tugged him under a stairwell. "I just want to talk," he said.

Kurt pulled away and folded his arms over his stomach. "Finn, I told you, I'm not in Spanish class anymore, I can't help you with your homework," he said.

"It's not about homework," Finn said. "I was just wondering…is everything okay with you? Because you've been acting really weird lately."

"I'm not acting weird," he murmured, looking down at his shoes.

"You left school yesterday after the girls performed, and you didn't come back for rehearsal," Finn said. "You never do that."

"I wasn't feeling well," Kurt lied. "I had a migraine."

He was such a bad liar that even Finn couldn't believe him. "Look, if there's something wrong, can't you tell someone about it?" he said.

"I did," he said.

"Is it the private school guy you were eating lunch with?" Finn asked.

Kurt flushed. "He's a friend of mine," he said.

"Where'd you meet him?" Finn asked.

"He's…it's not important, he's just a friend," Kurt said. "Look, I really need to get to class-"

Finn stopped him. "Is he your boyfriend?" he asked incredulously.

"No," Kurt said. "No, he's not, he's just a friend." "Is he gay?" Finn asked.

"Why should that matter?" Kurt retorted.

Finn squirmed a little. "Well, maybe if he's not your boyfriend now, maybe he'll be your boyfriend later," he said. "Figure I should get mentally prepared now."

Kurt sighed. "Blaine's gay," he said. "But he's just a friend. He's just helping me."

Finn frowned. "Helping you with what?" he asked.

"Just…it's nothing," he said. "Don't worry about it, Finn. I'm fine."

Finn didn't look convinced. "That guy isn't…hurting you, is he?" he said.

"I expect this sort of conversation from my father, Finn, not from you," Kurt said, brushing past him.

"I'm sorry," Finn said. He followed him down the hall. "Don't get pissed. I just want to make sure you're okay."

Kurt stopped and sighed. "Thank you for your concern," he said softly. "I'm fine."

"But you'll tell somebody if you're not, right?" Finn urged. "At least tell that Blaine kid."

"It probably won't be Blaine," Kurt said, his lips turning slightly in a wry smile. "I don't know when I'll see him again."

"Why not?" Finn asked. "You guys seemed like you were pretty good friends when you were eating lunch together."

Kurt shrugged. "I don't want to bother him with my problems," he said.

"He skipped school to eat lunch with you," Finn said. "Seems like he doesn't mind being bothered." He squeezed Kurt's shoulder before he could pull away. "You'd better talk to somebody."

Kurt stood still as Finn walked away, lost in thought. He had called Blaine after the kiss on a spur-of-the-moment decision, and honestly he hadn't expected him to come all the way out to McKinley just to talk to him, much less help him confront Karofsky.

_Maybe I could bother him again, _he thought.

* * *

Blaine walked into the senior commons and dropped his bag on the floor. "Hey," he said. "Is it open house already?"

"Well, we didn't dress up as boys and sneak in here," Lucy said from her perch on David's knees.

"Sh!" Wes said. "Watching a movie. You miss one second of The Prestige, you're confused for the rest of your life."

The four of them sprawled out on the couch. Blaine grinned and settled in between the couples, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "Am I interrupting anything salacious?" he inquired.

"Well, you would, if Wesley wasn't such a movie Nazi," Jo grinned.

"You can't make out and watch a Christopher Nolan film at the same time, Joanna," Wes argued.

"They're not having any problem with it," Jo said, jabbing her thumb in the general direction of David and Lucy. She leaned over and kissed Blaine on the cheek. "So where have you been? Out of uniform, no less."

He cleared his throat. "I went to see a show," he said.

"By yourself?" Jo said.

"Geez, Blaine, that's depressing," David said, pulling away from Lucy and making her pout. "We could have gone with you."

Wes frowned. "But I got you two tickets," he said. "Wasn't your sister going to go with you?"

"Francey couldn't have gone with you, she's in Kentucky at school," Lucy objected.

Jo frowned. "Blaine, are you hiding something from us?" she said warily.

Blaine squirmed. "I wasn't by myself," he said.

Wes paused the movie. "Then who were you with?" he demanded.

Blaine looked down at his shoes and mumbled.

"Kurt?" David repeated, his eyebrows shooting straight up. "You were with Kurt?"

Lucy sat up. "Who's Kurt?" she asked.

"Is this another Chad?" Jo said.

"No, no, Kurt's from a rival glee club and he spied on us a few weeks ago," Wes said.

"Oh my god, is this a Warblers spy mission?" Lucy asked eagerly. "Why wasn't I invited to help? I'm a much better spy than Blaine."

David laughed and tightened his arms around her waist. "He's not spying, he's flirting," he said.

Jo whipped around to stare at Blaine. "I'm not flirting!" he protested. "Kurt's been going through a really hard time lately. I took him to go see a show so that it could take his mind off things."

"And you're not calling it a date?" Jo said skeptically.

Blaine folded his hands and rested them on his knees. "No, I am not," he said placidly.

"What show did you take him to see?" Lucy asked.

"Rent!" Wes said gleefully. "I got him two tickets for Rent."

"You took him to Rent and you're not calling it a date?" David said.

"That is the _epitome _of a date," Jo said.

"What did you guys do during the sex song?" Lucy giggled.

"We watched it like two mature young men," Blaine said, keeping his eyes on the paused screen. "Now, are we going to finish the movie?"

"Not till we get more details," Jo said. "You're sure this wasn't a date?"

"I'm sure."

Lucy sidled closer. "Did you want it to be a date?" she asked slyly.

"I'm not answering that."

"Are you going to see him again?" David asked.

Blaine shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I asked him out this time….as friends, mind you. I told him that if he wants to hang out again some time that he should feel free to call me. Now can we stop talking about my non-date and watch the movie?"

"Fine," Jo sighed.

"We'll have to go back a few scenes," Wes warned, picking up the remote.

Blaine shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch as the movie started up again. It only took a few minutes, though, before he zoned out.

Kurt was the perfect person to go to a show with. He read the playbill religiously before it started, he didn't try to talk during the important scenes, and he applauded with so much enthusiasm it was almost impossibly adorable.

_No, _he told himself sternly. _You can't think of him as adorable. That's not what mentors do._

He really couldn't help it, though. Kurt had never seen a live production of Rent before, and even if it was just a slightly lame community theater show, he spent the whole show with his eyes shining. And when they reached the scene when Angel died, Kurt unconsciously reached over and grabbed his hand.

Blaine unconsciously flexed his fingers. He could still feel Kurt's slender hand gripping his tightly. Of course, it hadn't lasted for very long. After a minute or two he had pulled away sheepishly, his eyes glued to the stage. But still. They held hands.

"Aha!" Lucy said victoriously.

"Lucy! Hush!" Wes scolded.

Lucy hopped up on her knees, waving a phone above her head. "Look what fell out of your pocket, Blaine," she teased.

"Hey!" he protested. "That's mine!"

"Ooh, he's got a text message," Jo said, reaching above his head to snatch the phone out of Lucy's hand.

"I want to see," Wes said, resting his chin on Jo's shoulder.

"Want to go to dinner with me and a friend next week?" Jo read aloud.

"Is it from Kurt?" David asked.

"It's from Kurt!" Lucy said. She grabbed Blaine by the shoulder and shook him. "Say yes! Say yes!"

"He wants you to meet one of his friends," Wes said. "That's a pretty big deal. Meeting the friends."

Jo frowned. "When do we get to meet him?" she asked.

"We're not dating," Blaine said, exasperated.

"We've met him," David offered helpfully. "He's very endearing."

"Ooh, endearing is good," Lucy said.

"Guys, let's just watch the movie," Blaine said.

"Fine," Wes said reluctantly. "We'll bother you about Kurt later."

They turned their attention back to the movie. Blaine took his phone back from Jo and turned it over in his hands, mentally debating. _Yes or no? _he thought.

His brain helpfully supplied him with the image of sitting next to Kurt at a restaurant, their knees bumping under the table, maybe even splitting a dessert. It was certainly not mentor-appropriate, but maybe they could have a good conversation about…well, he didn't know, gay marriage or something. Something deep.

Yeah. That could justify going out to dinner with him.

Blaine hit reply and started tapping out a message, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

"Oh my god! Blaine! Are you answering him?"

He groaned.

* * *

"So," Kurt said. "What, um…what do you think of him?"

Mercedes buckled herself into the front passenger seat. "Hm?" she said.

Kurt tapped his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel. "What do you think of Blaine?" he asked.

"He's nice," Mercedes said. "I like him."

Kurt sighed heavily as he pulled out of the Breadstix parking lot. "You didn't seem like you liked him," he said under his breath.

"What?" she said. "Honey, why would you think that?"

He gripped the steering wheel. "Well, you kept zoning out of our conversation," he said. "You didn't seem very interested in him."

She laughed, and he bit his lip. "That's because you didn't need me," she said. "You guys were having plenty of fun without me butting into your conversation."

"But I really wanted you to like him," he said.

"I do," she said. "I really do." She leaned back and grinned. "Why is it so important for me to like him?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I thought he was just a friend of yours," Mercedes said.

"He is."

"A friend that you desperately want me to like?"

"I'm not desperate," he mumbled.

"Honey, when he offered you a bite of his cake, I thought you were going to jizz in your pants," she said.

Kurt's jaw dropped. "I didn't…I'm not…I don't _like _him like him!" he protested.

"I was this close to shouting 'mailman' at you," she grinned.

"Says the girl who was making out with her tater tots," he retorted.

Mercedes squeezed his knee lightly. "Look, Kurt, I get it," she said. "You like him. You were all over him."

"Was I?" he said, his heart suddenly dropping down to his stomach. "I was all over him? Was he annoyed? Oh, god, I wish I knew how to flirt properly…I just never get a chance to practice on anybody…"

"You were fine," she corrected hurriedly. "I don't think Blaine thought you were all over him. I just know you really well, and you are never that touchy-feely with anybody."

"Really?"

"It was adorable," she said. "So are you going to ask him out on a real date, instead of dragging me along to make it seem platonic?"

He sighed as he turned into Mercedes' neighborhood. "I doubt it," he said. "I don't know if he likes me." Mercedes opened her mouth to argue. "I mean, I don't need another Finntervention. I want to know for sure that he's interested in me before I do anything."

"Then call him up and ask him out to do something with you," she said. "Something that doesn't involve me. You'll just have to call me afterwards with all the deets."

He parked in her driveway and sighed. "You're sure I should do this?" he said.

She unbuckled her seatbelt and twisted around to face him. "Look, Kurt," she said. "I know I haven't been exactly thrilled with you spending so much time with Blaine, but I can tell you really like him. And I really think you have a chance with him."

Her words made him feel more hope than he should probably be feeling. "Really?" he said.

"Really," she smiled. "Just remember to make time for me, okay? Blaine's a pretty cool guy, but he can't replace me."

"You're right," he said. "Bowling this weekend? To make up for me ditching you last week?"

"Sure," she said. She kissed him on the cheek and grabbed her bag. "Go home and dream about Blaine."

"Okay, see you tomorrow," he said as she climbed out of the car and slammed the door. "Wait, what?"

* * *

"Blaine."

He stared at his phone.

"Blaine Anderson."

He couldn't believe it.

"Earth to Blaine."

It was over.

"Paging Blaine Anderson. Blaine Anderson, your mommy is waiting for you at the front of the store."

The phone screen dimmed; he tapped the touch screen to stare at the text again.

Something whapped him across the back of his head. "Blaine!" Wes said, shaking his stack of sheet music. "Rehearsal ended ten minutes ago! You can get off the risers now!"

"Oh," he said stupidly.

"If we don't hurry, we'll miss dinner," David warned.

"Okay," he said..

Wes shoved the sheet music into his attache case. "Rehearsal went well, but I think we could still do better for our sectionals setlist," he said.

David paused. "Blaine?" he said. "Are you all right?'

"Yeah," he said. "Why…why do you ask?"

"You haven't stopped staring at your phone for the past five minutes," David said.

Wes straightened. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Bad news from home?"

"No, no, it's…it's good news," Blaine said. He cleared his throat. "You know the jerk that's been harassing Kurt?"

"The stupid jock that won't leave him alone?" David said. "What about him?'

"Kurt's father found out about it," Blaine said. "They had a meeting with the principal and Karofsky got expelled."

"Really?" Wes said. "That's fantastic."

"Yeah, fantastic," Blaine echoed.

David frowned. "You don't sound very happy about this," he said. "Isn't this a good thing?"

"Yeah, it's great," Blaine said. He smiled. "Kurt doesn't need a mentor anymore."

Wes and David exchanged a look. "Do we need to call in the girls to talk about your boy troubles?" Wes said warily.

"No," Blaine said. He smiled and slid his phone in his pocket. "No, no, it's fine. I'll just probably never see him again."

"Aren't you friends?" David said.

"Yes, but he lives almost two hours away," Blaine said. "Every time we've hung out, it's only been because he needed to talk to me about something that was going on."

"Are you sure about that?" Wes said skeptically.

"It's fine," Blaine said. "We're friends on Facebook. I'm sure we'll keep in touch." He picked up his messenger bag. "Let's go to dinner before they run out of food."

He followed them down the hall while they launched into a deep discussion of the merits of top 40 hits versus American songbook selections for sectionals. But he didn't pay any attention to them.

_I'll probably never see him again, _he thought, and it made him more upset than it ought to.

* * *

It was entirely different to walk down the rotunda steps in the Dalton uniform than to sneak by in bondage shorts and sunglasses. His heart beat rapidly in his chest. He clutched his new schedule and searched through the crowds for a familiar face.

He made it to the bottom of the steps when he heard a voice behind him. "Excuse me. Are you new here?"

He turned around. "Hi," he said, breaking out into a smile.

Blaine's jaw dropped. "Kurt?" he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I, um…" he stammered. Blaine took by the hand and tugged him under the curve of the stairs. He took a deep breath. "I'm a Dalton student now."

"Why?" Blaine said. "I mean, I'm glad to see you, but why…"

Kurt swallowed hard. "Karofsky's back," he said.

Blaine frowned. "They expelled him."

"His parents petitioned the school board and they brought him back, just in time for the next hockey game," he said. He forced himself to smile. "My dad pulled me out of McKinley and the next thing I know…I'm here."

Blaine blinked. "Oh," he said. "Kurt, I'm…I'm so sorry that they brought him back. He's a creep, he deserved to be expelled."

"Well, you know that and I know that, but unfortunately all the school board sees is a player that can win games for them," Kurt said, trying to act nonchalant and failing. "So now I'm here."

"Are you a day student?" Blaine said.

He shook his head. "Your headmaster gave me a full housing scholarship," he said. "They're moving me into the junior wing. I get a single room. Lucky me."

Blaine blinked. "Oh my god," he said. "Wow. You're actually here."

"Yes, I am," Kurt said. He took a deep breath. "Here, and nervous."

Blaine smiled at him, his hazel eyes warm. "Let me see your schedule," he said, his fingers brushing against Kurt's as he took the paper out of his hands. "Oh, I know where that is. Come on, I'll wa;k you to class."

"Do you know a shortcut?" Kurt teased.

"I sure do," Blaine said. His smile widened to an almost wicked grin and he grabbed Kurt by the hand. "C'mon."

Kurt held on tightly as Blaine jogged down the hall, his heart skipping every other beat in his chest. _I get to see him all the time now, _he thought, almost lightheaded. _Maybe…maybe I do have a chance after all._

_

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**

OH MAH GAH they FINALLY met!

Yay.

And you guys all guessed I was going to use "Teenage Dream" for this one, right? Right? No. I'm saving that for a very special chapter.

This one was fun to write, but a little weird. Basically, I wanted to show them after every little encounter, being all like "well, you know, he's probably not interested" or "well, I just want to be a mentor." But now they're at the same school and get to spend all their time together!

Yay.

Also, the lyrics for this song were perfect. They mention blushing for Kurt and eyesex for Blaine. Awesomesauce. I love it when a plan comes together!

I hope you like this one!

**Next chapter: "Pearl"**


	5. Pearl

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me. "Pearl" belongs to Katy Perry.

* * *

Do you know that there's a way out?

You don't have to be held down

'Cause I used to be a shell…I let him rule my world

But I woke up and grew strong and I can still go on

And no one can take my pearl

You don't have to be a shell

You're the one who rules your world

You are strong

And you'll learn that you can still go on

And you'll always be a pearl

-_"Pearl"_

_

* * *

_

Kurt had never expected that the Dalton Warblers could get this noisy. Then again, it might have something to do with the fact that they were eating in a restaurant off-campus with the girls' chorus from St. Liliana's.

"So do all the Warblers have Lark girlfriends?" Kurt inquired.

Blaine laughed. "Not all of them, clearly, but a lot of them do," he said. "It's all very incestuous."

"Sounds like New Directions," Kurt said. "Our couples have gotten together and broken up so many times that I had to make a flow chart to keep them straight."

He watched the other couples down the long row of pushed-together tables. Jo kept stealing fries off of Wes's plate every time he turned around to lecture Jeff about something; when he turned to catch her in the act he just laughed and poked her playfully. Lucy was practically sitting on David's lap while they talked, their food forgotten as they chatted and occasionally kissed.

He glanced at Blaine from under his lashes. Blaine didn't seem fazed by anything. He kept talking and laughing with everyone, no matter if they were firmly entwined in coupledom.

He sighed, idly wondering what it would be like if he and Blaine could be a couple. Maybe they could hold hands under the table and whisper in each other's ears and rest their heads on each other's shoulders when they got tired. For one fleeting moment he briefly considered leaning his head on against Blaine's broad shoulder, but no, that would be a bad idea.

"Can I get that out of your way, honey?" the waitress asked.

"Yes, thank you," he murmured, leaning back as she took his empty plate away.

"Can I get you kids anything else?" she asked to the rest of the table.

"Boys, bust out the dessert menu," Wes said. "You know the rule. The Larks won their choral competition, we owe them dessert."

David groaned. "But if we win sectionals, they have to buy us dessert, right?" he said.

Wes brandished the dessert menu in his face. "Not _if_, David, _when_," he corrected. "_When _we win sectionals. Now, Jo, what do you want?"

Blaine leaned over to Kurt. "Are you going to get anything?" he asked.

"I don't know," Kurt said. He drummed his fingers lightly on the tabletop. "I'm going to run to the bathroom, I think."

"Sure you don't want anything?" Blaine said.

Kurt slid out of his seat. "I'll be fine," he said over his shoulder.

He walked to the bathroom on the opposite side of the restaurant, the door swinging shut behind him. _I wish I knew what he was thinking, _he thought unhappily.

In his first few weeks of Dalton, he had already gotten himself completely confused by Blaine's signals. Sometimes he thought Blaine might like him too…sometimes he thought that Blaine just saw him in desperate need of mentoring.

_It's just not fair, _he thought as he washed his hands at the sink. _I just wish I could figure out what he was thinking. I thought that was one of the perks of liking boys. They're supposed to be easier to understand, right?_

He dried his hands off carefully and turned to leave, but the door opened before he could touch the handle. A tall guy in a letterman's jacket frowned down at him. "Sorry, dude," he said, brushing past him.

Kurt stumbled out of the bathroom as the door slammed behind him. All he could see was the letterman's jacket.

Red and black.

A big letter 'M.'

A McKinley Titan.

He pressed himself against the wall, catching his breath. He was fine. It was nothing. He could handle one McKinley jock. Obviously he didn't recognize him, so he should be fine. All he needed to do was slip out of the hall, cross the restaurant, and sit down next to Blaine. He could blend into the sea of navy blazers until they left.

He took a slow breath and closed his eyes. _You can do this, _he told himself sternly. He pinched the bridge of his nose. _One jock isn't going to kill you._

He squared his shoulders and walked back into the restaurant, his eyes darting around despite himself. Several waiters were pushing tables together, and a group of people loitered around, talking loudly while they waited for them to finish.

Every one of them was in a McKinley letterman's jacket.

He almost tripped, his heart thudding in his chest. _Please let it be the football team, please let it be the football team, _he prayed fervently.

If it was the football team, it would be okay. It wouldn't be as good as avoiding the McKinley jocks entirely, but if it was the football team, Finn would be there. Karofsky wouldn't dare try anything, not with his brother there. And there would be Mike, and Sam, and Puck. At this point, he would give his right hand for Puck to show up. And that was saying something.

He crept forward, glancing at the table out of the corner of his eye. It was hard to tell who was there. If he just knew that it was the football team, and not hockey...

He heard Dave Karofsky laugh.

A sharp shiver ran down his spine and he whipped around sharply without thinking. He scanned the crowd, and his heart sank

It was definitely the hockey team. There weren't any friends to keep Karofsky from going after him.

His knees almost buckled. It took all of the his strength to keep walking, head bowed, trying to make himself as invisible as possible. His head swam.

"Hey, Kurt," Blaine said, still flipping through the menu. "I'm thinking about getting the strawberry cake, but I don't know if I can eat all of it. Will you help me eat it if I…"

His voice trailed off. Kurt brushed past him and sank into his chair. "Kurt, are you all right?" Blaine asked.

"I'm fine," he said. He couldn't keep the tremor out of his voice.

Blaine set down the menu and turned towards him. "You look like you've seen a ghost," he said. "Are you sick?"

"I'm okay," he insisted, picking up the discarded menu. "Now…now what were you looking at?"

Blaine frowned and touched the back of his hand to Kurt's forehead. "You feel a little warm," he said.

Kurt pulled away. "I'm not sick," he said. "Just forget it, okay? What were you…you…"

The hockey team shouted something indistinguishable and Kurt flinched before he could stop it. Blaine lowered his head towards him. "Kurt, what's wrong?" he said. "You've got to tell me what's going on."

Karofsky laughed again and Kurt jerked away sharply, his forehead inadvertently touching Blaine's shoulder. He felt Blaine turn slightly as he looked towards the team. "Those jackets…" he said, his voice trailing off. "Are they from McKinley?"

"Hockey team," Kurt said in a low voice.

"Karofsky?"

Kurt paused, then nodded slightly. He straightened up, trying to calm himself down. "It's okay, I'll-"

Karofsky glanced towards their table, scanning their group. Kurt bit down hard on his lip.

Blaine placed his hand on his knee and stared down at his empty plate. After a moment he looked up. "Jo," he said. "Joanna."

She glanced over. "What?" she said, still needling Wes for more of his fries.

"See those jocks over there?" Blaine said.

Jo frowned. "Uh-huh. What of it?" she said.

"I want you to go over and talk to them," he said. "Flirt if you have to."

She scowled. "Have you gone crazy?" she said.

"Just do it," Blaine said. "I'll explain later. Just go."

"You're not serious," she said.

"I am, just do it," he said.

Kurt hunched in his seat as Jo got up from the table, still eyeing Blaine warily. "What the hell are you doing?" Wes demanded.

Blaine leaned over. "David, you still have the keys to the bus, right?" he said.

"I do, why?" David asked.

Lucy frowned. "Why is Jo talking to those boys?"

"Because Blaine has gone psychotic, and I'm going to kill him," Wes fumed.

Blaine leaned over Kurt, resting his hand on his knee to brace himself. "David, take the keys, unlock the bus, and wait," he said in a low voice.

He heard Karofsky laugh again at something Jo said, low and rough, and he shuddered despite himself. David glanced sharply from Blaine to Kurt. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain in a little bit, just do it," Blaine urged.

David pulled the keys out of his blazer pocket and tossed them in his hand. "I'm on it," he said, sliding out of his seat. "But there better be a good reason for it."

Kurt stared down at the pattern in the tablecloth as David left. The restaurant was noisy and warm, but he shivered. Wes leaned forward, flexing his fingers on the tabletop. "Look, Anderson, you'd better have a good reason for this," he hissed. "Are you on something?"

"Not now," Blaine said. He squeezed Kurt's knee under the table. "Wes, in a few minutes, go over to Jo and start arguing with her."

"What?" Wes said, leaning back. "Why? About what?"

"Something," Blaine said. "Anything. Just make it big. Distract them."

Kurt glanced quickly across the room. He could see Jo chatting amiably with the McKinley hockey players, although he could tell by the stiff set of her jaw that she wasn't very happy about it. But at least she wasn't giving them an opportunity to look at him.

"Wes, go," Blaine said in a low voice.

Wes got up, scraping his chair loudly on the floor. "There had better be a good reason for this, Anderson," he said.

He stormed over to Jo; it didn't take much for him to launch into a fairly convincing argument that quickly got the attention of the hockey players. Blaine leaned across the table. "Lucy, take Kurt and go," he ordered. "Take him to the bus. I'll stay behind and make sure that Karofsky doesn't see?"

"Karofsky?" Lucy repeated, glancing from Kurt to the crowd around the table.

Blaine gave Kurt a slight push. "Kurt, go," he said. "Stay with Lucy and get on the bus. I'll be out there as soon as I can."

Numbly he stumbled out of his chair. Lucy took him by the hand and pulled him to his feet. He kept his head down as they walked quickly past the table full of Larks and Warblers. None of them noticed that anything was wrong.

His heart pounded as they made their way out of the restaurant. The Titans didn't notice him, distracted by Wes and Jo arguing, some of them jutting in to egg them on. He saw Karofsky next to Azimio, snickering as he watched them fight.

_If he looks just a little more to his right, he'll see me, _he thought, panic rising in his throat.

His fingers twitched in Lucy's grip. She squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him, but she said nothing as she pushed the doors open. The early evening air was cool, and he heaved a sigh of relief despite himself. Outside the hot confines of the restaurant it was peaceful and quiet. They were alone except for a guy leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, the lit end marking the darkness.

"Now can you tell me what's going on?" Lucy whispered.

He could see the Dalton bus parked at the edge of the lot and some of the tension in his chest escaped. "Those jocks are from my old school," he whispered back. "One of them…is the reason I transferred."

"Oh, I'm so-"

Another voice cut her off in midsentence, and Kurt's heart leaped into his throat.

"Hey, Hummel, is that you?"

His hand froze in Lucy's grip as he heard footsteps behind them.

"Ha. We were wondering where you went."

The guy dropped his cigarette, grinding it under his shoe, and followed them. Kurt glanced back out of the corner of his eye, making out the big black M on his jacket in the lights of the parking lot. It looked like Andrews, Trent Andrews, one of Karofsky's usual sidekicks.

_Don't let him tell Karofsky, don't let him tell Karofsky…_

"Seriously, though, is that you, Hummel? 'Cause we've missed you. Our resident fag disappears, we've gotta find a new target."

He wasn't exactly sure how he was still walking. _This is a dream, _he thought fervently. _Just a dream. I'll wake up in a second._

He heard the steady heavy footsteps behind him, and he panicked. The bus wasn't very far away, but he didn't think he could make it there.

"Oh, God," he mumbled under his breath. "Oh, God. Oh, God."

Lucy halted in her tracks and dropped his hands. He stumbled to a stop. She reached up, grabbed him by the cheeks, and yanked him down to her level. Before he had time to think she planted her lips against his, kissing him fiercely. He was too stunned to kiss her back, his hands dropping limply on her shoulders.

In a second she pulled back, tossing her long hair over her shoulder and glaring at Andrews. "I don't know what on earth you're thinking, but this is my boyfriend," she snapped, raising her voice a little bit more than necessary. "Leave us alone! Come on, David."

Vaguely Kurt felt her take his hand again. Andrews fell back a step. "But…you look just like Hummel," he objected.

Suddenly David walked out from behind the Dalton bus. "David, what are you doing?" he said, striding over to them. "Taking your girlfriend to make out in the parking lot again? Seriously, you guys got in major trouble last time."

Andrew backed off. "Sorry, dude, thought you were somebody else," he mumbled. "Uh…good luck with the girlfriend and all…"

He walked away, heading towards the restaurant. Kurt couldn't move. David grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him towards the bus. He stumbled up the steps and collapsed on the first seat he reached.

"David?" David said to Lucy, looking slightly amused. "Really?"

"It was the only way I could think of getting your attention," she said. She sat down beside Kurt as he hunched over his knees, knotting her hands in her lap. "Kurt, I am so sorry. It was seriously the only thing I could think of."

He sat up, forcing himself to smile as he tried to catch his breath. "For a gay guy I kiss an awful lot of girls," he wheezed.

David pulled the bus doors shut and locked them. "Do you mind explaining what's going on?" he said.

Kurt still couldn't get his breathing to even out. "That was the McKinley hockey team," he said.

"McKinley, as in your previous school?" David said.

Kurt nodded. Lucy tentatively placed her hand on his back. "They all liked tormenting me, for various reasons, but one of them in particular has had it out for me for a long time," he said.

David folded his arms and leaned against the driver's seat partition. "You thought he was going to come after you?" he said.

"Stupid, I know," Kurt said, sighing. "I'm sorry. I guess I was being overdramatic." Lucy rubbed his back gently. "No, you weren't," she said. "You were genuinely scared and you needed to get out of there."

He took a deep breath. "Thanks for helping me," he said.

"It's not like Blaine really gave us a choice," David smiled. "I'm kind of glad he didn't give us a chance to argue."

Someone pounded on the doors of the bus. Kurt started, accidentally grabbing hold of Lucy's knee and pressing himself back against the seat, away from the window.

"It's okay, it's just Blaine," David said, the bus keys jangling in his hand. Lucy put her hand over Kurt's and squeezed his fingers.

David opened the bus doors and Blaine jogged up the stairs, his hair slightly mussed and his hands in fists at his sides. "Kurt," he said, looking him up and down as though scanning for injuries. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he reassured him.

Blaine stepped closer. "You're sure?" he said.

He nodded. "He came close to getting caught, but Lucy's a quick thinker," David said.

Lucy reddened. "I'm really sorry," she said.

Blaine arched an eyebrow. Kurt squeezed her hand. "It's okay," he said. "I've sort of resigned myself to the fact that all of the kisses I'll ever receive will always be under strange circumstances."

Blaine glanced at David, who just shrugged. "We'll explain at some point," he said.

"All right, then," Blaine said. He planted his hands on the sides of the seats and leaned over Kurt. "Everyone else is still finishing their dessert and paying, but we'll leave as soon as they all get here."

Kurt blanched. "I forgot to pay," he said.

"Don't worry about it, I covered it," Blaine said.

"I'll pay you back."

"I told you, don't worry about it," Blaine repeated. "It was more important to just get you out of there." He leaned in a little closer. "You're sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine," he said. "Thank you for…for everything."

Blaine smiled. "You're welcome," he said.

The doors rattled as the Warblers headed back onto the bus. "Lu, you'd better go," David said.

She leaned over and kissed Kurt lightly on the side of his head, then scooted past. "I'll talk to you later," she said.

David caught her around the waist and kissed her. "Just so you remember who your real boyfriend is," he grinned.

"I remember, I remember," she teased, punching him playfully before hopping lightly off the bus.

Wes stormed past her. "What the hell was that all about, Anderson?" he fumed. "Thanks to you, I just had a huge fight with my girlfriend. And at this point, I don't know if it was a real fight or a fake one!"

Kurt flinched. "I'll field this one," David said, grabbing Wes by the lapel and dragging him to the back of the bus.

Blaine slipped into the seat beside Kurt. Kurt just stared down at his knees. The bus filled up, the driver got in, and the bus rolled out of the parking lot. He stared dully out the window as they passed the dingy black and yellow bus with MCKINLEY painted on the side.

"Hey," Blaine said softly, jostling his knee gently. "What are you thinking?"

He sighed. "Nothing," he said.

Blaine scooted a little closer. "It doesn't seem like nothing," he said. "Care to tell me what's wrong?"

He kept staring out the window. "I hoped I would never see him again," he said softly. "But I had at least hoped that if I had to see him, I could at least stand up for myself."

"Kurt, he threatened to kill you," Blaine said. "It was smart to get out of harm's way before something happened."

"He didn't even see me, and I freaked out," Kurt said. "How ridiculous is that?"

"What if he had seen you?" Blaine said in a low voice. "What if he had cornered you on your way out of the bathroom? He could have hurt you before I…before anyone could have stopped him."

"I should be able to stand up for myself," he said bitterly. "But every time…ever since the…" His voice trailed off; he swallowed hard. "I just freeze up."

Blaine shifted, pressing his thigh against his. Kurt kept staring out the window, but finally he turned, the words bursting out of him before he could stop himself. "Did I tell you about the cake topper?"

"No," Blaine said, calm and unfazed. "You can tell me about it, if you'd like."

He bit his lip. "It was when I was planning my dad's wedding," he said. "I brought my mother's cake topper to school, to show Finn. I wanted to make sure he was okay with using it. Turns out, he didn't mind at all, I was sort of surprised."

He was talking too fast. Blaine slipped his hand over his knee. "I took it out of my locker and closed the door and Karofsky was right there," he said, the words spilling out. "I didn't hear him walk up. And he…he put his finger on my chest and…and sort of…trailed it down, and…and he grabbed the cake topper and took it and walked away."

He didn't dare look at Blaine. "That was my _mother_'_s_," he said. "My mom had a shotgun wedding at the county courthouse, and that cake topper was pretty much the only real wedding-related thing she got. And…and he still has it. He never gave it back."

His throat constricted sharply. He felt Blaine's hand move from his knee and slide slowly around his shoulders. "I just froze," he whispered. "I couldn't…I couldn't do anything. I couldn't even defend myself."

Blaine hugged him around his shoulders. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "Kurt, I'm…I'm so sorry."

He turned slightly towards Blaine, his head coming close to his shoulder. "You don't deserve this," Blaine said. "Whether it's him targeting you or the blame you're placing on yourself. None of this is your fault, and you don't deserve to be this miserable."

Blaine's arm tightened around his shoulders. Kurt swallowed a sob. "I hate seeing you like this," he continued, keeping his voice quiet amidst the noise of the Warblers talking and laughing. "You can't let him destroy you."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," Kurt said bitterly. "Am I supposed to just forget about it?'

Blaine sighed. "You can never forget these sorts of things," he said ruefully. "Trust me." He rubbed his thumb against the shoulder seam of Kurt's blazer. "But you can learn to move on. You can't let him win. Just keep thinking that."

They were pressed incredibly close together. Kurt was almost leaning onto him; if Blaine pulled him any closer he would fall on his lap. Gingerly he leaned his cheek against Blaine's shoulder. "I'll try," he said.

Blaine's shoulder felt warm and firm and sturdy under his cheek, moving slightly with each breath under the confines of his blazer. And he smelled nice, like good cologne and cinnamon gum. The bus rolled down the interstate on the way back to Dalton, and he closed his eyes.

The next thing he knew, Blaine was shaking him lightly. "Kurt," he whispered.

"Hm?" Kurt murmured.

"Kurt, wake up. We're here."

Kurt bolted upright, his cheeks flushing. "Wh-what?" he sputtered. "Did I-"

"You fell asleep," Blaine smiled. He reached over and brushed his thumb lightly over Kurt's cheek. "Nice blazer lines."

Kurt covered his face, stunned. "I didn't…I didn't…"

"You didn't drool, flail, or talk in your sleep," Blaine grinned. "Good job."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Kurt gasped.

"You were tired," Blaine shrugged. "Now, you'd better get up, before you get left behind the bus."

Kurt stood up, stretching the kinks out of his neck carefully as he followed Blaine and the rest of the Warblers off the bus. Someone caught him by the arm as they crossed the parking lot and he jumped in surprise.

"Kurt, listen, I'm sorry," Wes said. "David explained what was going on, and I'm-"

"It's fine," Kurt said. He smiled. "Hopefully it won't happen again. Karofsky, I mean."

"I hope not," Wes said. He cleared his throat. "Now, if you guys don't mind, I need to call Jo and make sure that our break-up was just for the sake of the hockey team."

"Hey, at least she didn't kiss another guy," David offered.

Blaine laughed. "This was an interesting night," he said, holding the door open as the Warblers passed by.

Kurt waited for him. "Too interesting for me," he said.

They walked down the quiet halls towards the dormitory wing. "Why don't you call your dad?" Blaine suggested.

"And tell him what happened?"

"No, no, just…talk to him," Blaine said. "I know you're really close. Maybe talking to your dad will make you feel better."

"I already feel a lot better," Kurt said, pausing at the entry to the junior commons. He twisted his fingers together. "Really, Blaine, thank you so much. I don't think I could have dealt with that on my own."

"I'm sure you would have risen to the occasion," Blaine smiled. "But all the same…I'm glad I was there too." He reached over and squeezed his arm. "Go call your dad, okay? And call me if you need me. Whenever you need me."

"I will," Kurt said, suddenly feeling a little shy. "Thank you."

Blaine flashed him one last disarming smile before walking away towards the senior dorms, his hands thrust in his pockets as he whistled lightly. Kurt lingered in the doorway and watched him go.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

This one isn't really my favorite so far, but I think it turned out okay.

BLAINE IS THE KING OF MIXED SIGNALS. JUST KISS HIM, ALREADY. GOSH.

Look at me. Getting frustrated with my own writing. I wrote this, I could just change it. Here, have a new ending.

"And then Blaine was like "KAROFSKY, GTFO." And Karofsky was like "whaaaa?" And Blaine was like "GIVE HIM HIS CAKE TOPPER BACK, YOU FOOL." And then he punched Karofsky in the solar plexus and took the cake topper back to Kurt in victory. And Kurt was like "OMFG, Blaaaaine!" and Blaine was all like "Kurt, would you like to put your hands on me in my skin-tight jeans?" And Kurt was like "YES PLEASE." And they kissed so passionately that a text window popped up that said "would you like to have a baby?" like it did in the old-school original Sims game and then they said yes and then they had babies. Babies, in showers of daisies. The end."

All right, so maybe not.

Also, I really need to type with my glasses on instead of squinting every so often at the screen. I keep writing "Kaforksy" instead of "Karofsky." Way different mental images going on there.

**In the next chapter: "ET"**


	6. ET

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me. "ET" belongs to Katy Perry.

* * *

You're so hypnotizing

Could you be the devil? Could you be an angel?

Your touch magnetizing

Feels like I am floating, leaves my body glowing

They say be afraid

You're not like the others, futuristic lover

Different DNA, they don't understand you

You're from a whole other world, a different dimension

You open my eyes and I'm ready to go

Lead me into the light

Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me

Infect me with your love and fill me with your poison

Take me, ta-ta-take me

Wanna be a victim, ready for abduction

Boy, you're an alienYour touch is foreign

It's supernatural, extraterrestrial

_-"ET"_

* * *

David clapped a hand over his mouth in an effort to keep from spewing Dr. Pepper across the table. Wes threw his head back and howled. "Mailman," he laughed. "Oh my god, I have to meet your brother!"

"It's funny when you're not the one walking in on him and his girlfriend making out on the couch, and Finn's screeching about postal workers," Kurt retorted.

David waved his hands helplessly in front of his face. "Oh my god, that almost came out of my nose!" he said. "Ow! Ow ow ow. It burns!"

Blaine grinned. "It does seem kind of Finnish," he said. "But can we change subjects? I've met Finn and Rachel, I don't want to think about them bumping uglies."

"Believe me, it's quite awkward," Kurt said darkly.

"All right, change of subject," Wes said. "Setlists."

David groaned. "Pass. Next topic."

"I am ashamed of you, David," Wes scolded. "You are a council member. You should be delighted to discuss anything Warbler related."

"I hate to break it to you, but there are things in life besides the Warblers, Wesley," Blaine said.

"Like girls!" David said, sitting upright.

Kurt followed his gaze. The double doors of the dining hall swung open to reveal several girls in the St. Liliana's uniforms. They held stacks of bright orange fliers in their arms and started handing them out to the boys that quickly flocked to them.

David stood up, waving frantically. "Lucy!" he called. "Lucy! Lucy! _Louisa!_"

The petite redhead squirmed out of the crowd and stomped over to them. "David! You're not supposed to call me Louisa!" she said. "I hate that name!"

"It was the only way I could get your attention," David grinned, leaning over the table to kiss her. Kurt ducked out of the way, only to bump shoulders with Blaine.

"What are you ladies doing here?" Wes inquired.

"What, aren't you happy to see us?" Jo smirked as she strolled over to them. "Because in that case, we could always leave…"

"No, no, that's okay," Wes said quickly, wrapping an arm around Jo's waist. "But seriously, why are you here?"

Lucy picked up one of the orange fliers and dangled it in front of David's face. "We came to hand these out," she said.

Kurt picked one up. "A Halloween party?" he said.

"Halloween dance," David corrected.

"A few times a semester we have dances with St. Liliana's," Blaine explained. "This year, St. Liliana's gets to host the Halloween dance."

"And it's a costume party, so you'd better dress up," Jo said.

"Or she'll kill you," Wes added.

"Costumes?" Kurt said, dismayed. "But…but the party's the weekend. I don't have a costume! I don't even know what I'm going to wear! I don't have time to go shopping!"

"Oh," Blaine said. "Yeah, I…I totally forgot too." He squirmed a little. "I don't…I don't have to go to this thing, do I?"

"Yes," Wes said, eyes narrowing. "You know the Warblers are usually called upon for an impromptu performance during these sorts of things, and if you aren't there to sing sweet, sweet lead for 'Teenage Dream,' Jeff is going to ask to do it. And you know we can't have that."

Blaine poked his forked into his quiche. "Maybe they won't ask us to sing it this time," he mumbled.

"Fat chance," David snorted. "The girls will beg until you start up your song, dance, and eyesex routine."

Blaine sighed. "Fine, I'll go," he said. "But I still don't have a costume."

"Neither do I!" Kurt exclaimed. He started running mentally through his wardrobe. Maybe he could piece something together…

"Oh, Blaine, we go through his every time," Jo sighed. "I'll come over here before the party and help you get dressed."

"Can't dress yourself?" Kurt teased.

Blaine shrugged. "Dressing beyond pants-shirt-shoes can be difficult," he said. "Between my mom, my sister, and Jo, I get by."

Kurt shook his head. "I am ashamed of you, Mr. Anderson," he said.

"Well, Mr. Hummel, if you're such a fashion genius, what are you going to wear?" Blaine asked.

"Wait, wait, wait," Lucy said, flailing her hand to get Jo's attention. "Remember when we were talking the other day about-"

"Uh-huh," Jo said, nodding eagerly. "And I had the idea that-"

"Uh-huh, and you said that I could-"

"Uh-huh, and it would be fabulous if-"

"We should totally do it!"

"Totally!"

Wes turned to David. "Life would be so much easier if we were fluent in girl," he sighed. David nodded.

Jo turned to Kurt and patted his hand. "Don't worry about a thing," she said. "Lucy can come up with something for you."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "You can trust her," Blaine said. "She's helped me out on a few outfits. She's got good taste. I think. I don't really know what's good or not."

"You can trust me," Lucy reassured him. She flipped over one of the orange fliers and held her hand out to David; he reached into the breast pocket of his blazer and pulled out a pen. "Here, write down your sizes and I'll take care of it."

"Are you sure?" Kurt said warily.

"Positive," Lucy said, scooting the paper and the pen towards him. "Write it down. And give me your number, I'll text you if I have any other questions or if I need you to bring anything."

Jo folded her arms. "The party starts at seven, so Blaine, I'm going to show up here at five to get you dressed," she said.

"It'll take that long to get ready?" Blaine said, dismayed.

"With that hair? Yes," Jo said with a frown.

Blaine sighed. "Fine. I'll be there," he said.

"So Kurt, you should come to St. Liliana's at five," Lucy said. "I'm sure David can take you."

"I can manage," David said.

"Then I will be there," Kurt smiled.

Jo looked at Lucy over the boys' heads. "This is going to be-"

"Awesome? Definitely," Lucy said.

Wes looked at David. "I don't know if 'awesome' is the word I would pick," he said. "Because I think I know what they're up to."

"What? What are they up to?" Kurt asked.

"We're not up to anything," Lucy said sweetly.

She linked arms with Jo. "Let's go," Jo said. "Boys, we'll see you on Friday. It'll be fun."

Needless to say, Kurt wasn't entirely convinced.

* * *

Blaine sat up at the sound of the knock on the door. "Come in," he called.

"You're not naked, are you?"

"No, Joanna, I'm not naked, just come in," Blaine said.

She strolled into his dorm room with a bag over her shoulder. "Hey, there," she said cheerfully. "Ready to get dressed?"

"Yeah, I guess," Blaine said, hanging his legs over the side of his bed. "What do you have planned for me? Nothing too ridiculous, I hope."

"No, I think you'll be okay," Jo said. She flung the bag towards him, making him _oof _loudly as it smacked him in the stomach, and started rummaging through his closet. "It's a good thing I know your closet as well as I do."

"Why?" he asked. "Is this going to be like last year when you dressed me up as Neo from the Matrix? Because that was probably the easiest costume ever, and I'll be perfectly fine if I go like that again."

Jo crossed her arms. "Blaine, last Halloween I had the flu and you dressed yourself," she said. "And not well, I might add."

He rolled his eyes. "That's what you think," he said. "So what am I going to be this year?"

Jo pulled out a pair of black skinny jeans and a black button-up shirt out of his closet and tossed them on the bed. Blaine brightened. "I _am _going to be Neo again!" he said.

"No, you're not," Jo said, handing him a skinny red tie and a pair of red suspenders. "Not quite."

"Then what am I?" Blaine asked. He picked up the tie and frowned at it. Jo dug something out of her bag and waved it in front of his face. "Ta-da!" she said cheerfully.

"Devil horns?" Blaine said. "You're dressing me up as a devil?"

"Oh, come on, it's classic," Jo said. She bundled his clothes into his arms and hoisted him to his feet. "Now go change. Now. Or we'll be late."

"Fine," Blaine grumbled, walking reluctantly to the bathroom. This wasn't his idea of a good time.

* * *

Kurt followed David down the airy, spacious halls of St. Liliana's. "So what are you supposed to be?" Kurt questioned.

David sighed. "Peter Parker," he said.

"Really?" Kurt said. "I never thought you were a comic book nerd."

"I'm not."

"So Lucy is?"

"No, actually, Wes and Jo are," David said. "Lucy just refuses to dress up as anyone who isn't a redhead. So she's Mary Jane, which means that, ergo, I have to be her Spiderman."

"Oh," Kurt said. He laughed. "Almost makes me glad I'm not in a couple. Makes the costumes a lot less embarrassing."

"I don't know," David warned. "Lucy could have picked something awful…"

Kurt gulped. The last thing he needed was to look like a total dork in front of Blaine.

The longer they walked down the hall of the junior girls' dorm, the more he could hear pop-punk with a heavy bass line. David paused outside the last door on the right and knocked. No one answered, but Kurt could hear someone singing loudly. Very loudly.

David knocked again, even louder. "Lucy, turn down the Bowling for Soup and let us in!" he called.

The door opened. Lucy stood in the doorway, breathless and laughing. "Hi, sorry," she said. She raised on her tiptoes and kissed David on the cheek, then took Kurt by the hand. "Thanks for bringing him, we'll be down at seven!"

"But…Lucy…what about-"

"You can admire my breathtakingly short schoolgirl skirt later, David," Lucy said cheerfully. "See you at the party!"

She dragged Kurt into her room, a surprisingly spacious yet moderately cluttered double, and shut the door. "I have to know," he said. "What am I going to be for Halloween?"

"You're going to love it," Lucy said. "Oh, good, you're wearing the white skinny jeans already."

"I am, but why?" Kurt said. "Who am I going to be?"

She picked up a set of small white feathery wings. "Guess," she said.

"Oh my god," Kurt said. "An angel? You're dressing me up as an angel?"

"Uh-huh," she said. "Do you like it?"

He put his hands to his mouth. "Oh my god, I totally love it," he said.

"Here, take off your shirt and put this on," Lucy said. "You are going to be _adorable_."

* * *

Blaine gripped the sides of his desk chair, wincing as Jo dragged her brush through his hair. "Ow!" he griped. "Ow, ow, _ow. _Could you pull any harder?"

"Yes, actually," she said, unconcerned. "Your hair is a nightmare. I told you to stop gelling it." She dug the brush through a particularly bad snarl. "If you had only listened to me and washed your hair before I got here, this would be so much better."

Blaine squinted as she tried to corral his hair into some semblance of order. "How much longer is this going to take?" he grunted as she smoothed his hair down.

"I think that's the best we can do with the hair," Jo said, heaving a sigh. "It's not as good as I imagined I, but oh, well. It's usually much worse."

"What do you mean, worse?" Blaine retorted.

Jo hummed to herself as she tossed her brush back into her bag and pulled out a small zippered pouch. "Let me see," she murmured. "Is this what I want? Or do I want…aha, there it is."

"There what is?" Blaine asked, trying to look into the bag. "What are you going to do to me?"

Jo brandished a slim black pencil. "This!" she said. "Now open your eyes and hold very still."

"Why?" Blaine demanded, scooting back.. "What the…Jo, is that eyeliner?"

"Just a little bit," she wheedled. "It'll make your lashlines crazy gorgeous."

"No. No. A thousand times no. Absolutely no."

"Oh, come on," Jo said. "It's just a little bit of guyliner. Plenty of guys wear it. The annoying bassist from Fall Out Boy, Johnny Depp…"

"I am not wearing guyliner," Blaine said flatly. "I may be gay, but I have lines. Lines that I refuse to cross."

"It'll be hot," Jo argued. "Don't you want to look hot?"

Blaine sat very still. "You may put a little bit on me," he relented. "Just a little bit. I have no desire to look like a raccoon after a bender."

"Fair enough," Jo said. She took his chin firmly in her hand. "Now hold very still, or this will go in your eye."

Blaine steeled himself, but at the last minute he ducked to the side. "You're going to poke my eye out!" he said.

"I'll poke your eye out if you keep jumping like that," Jo said. "Now hold still and don't squirm, unless you would like to go blind in a makeup-related incident. And you know Wes will never let you live that down."

Blaine clamped his hands firmly on either side of his chair. "Just get it over with it," he said.

"It'll be over in a second if you just _hold the eff still_," Jo said. "All right, let me try again, so just- hold still! Blaine! Stop moving!"

* * *

"See?" Lucy beamed. "I told you. You're adorable."

Kurt twisted around, trying to get a better look at himself in the small bathroom mirror. "I have to say, this top goes so much better with these jeans than I thought," he admitted.

"I'm a fashion genius," Lucy said, leaning against her bedpost. "Now, before you put the wings on, let me do your hair."

Without thinking, Kurt reached up to nervously touch his hair. "I don't know," he hedged. "Only two people touch my hair. Me, and Brooke down at my usual salon."

"Please?" Lucy said, clasping her hands together. "I promise I won't mess it up. I know just what I want to do. Please?"

Kurt sighed and sat down on the edge of her bed. "Do your worst," he said, waving his hand dismissively at her.

Lucy squeaked in excitement and snatched up a comb from her dresser. "I promise, you won't be sorry," she said. She drew her fingers through his hairsprayed bangs, dividing the strands. "You put so much product in your hair."

"I find it fun," he said.

Lucy ruffled his slowly relaxing hair. "Are you tenderheaded?" she asked.

"A little," he confessed.

"Well, I'll be careful," she smiled, combing his hair gently. "Your hair is so soft. What do you use on it?"

"Garnier dry and damaged shampoo every other day, deep conditioner on the ends twice a week, and a trim every six weeks," he said. "It's taken a couple of years to figure out what works the best on my hair."

"Well, it's working," Lucy said.

He closed his eyes. It actually felt nice to have Lucy fuss over him. Her slim little fingers worked gently through his hair. "Thanks for helping me with this costume," he said.

"It's no problem," she said. "Jo always gets to dress up Blaine. I'm excited that I have someone to dress up." She parted his hair and smoothing his bangs over his forehead. "There. Take a look." He obediently opened his eyes. "Do you like it?"

"I do," he said, surprised. "I do. You did a good job." He laughed. "Now three people are allowed to touch my hair."

"Oh, yay!" Lucy said. "Now hold still. There's one last touch for your hair." He held obediently still as she took out a thin gold band and set it carefully on his head. "You can't be an angel without a halo."

"Definitely not," he said absently, preening in the mirror. "Am I done?"

"One last step," Lucy said, a wicked smile playing on her lips. She pulled out a small tub and a large fluffy brush.

Kurt perked up. "Is that body glitter?" he asked.

"You need your angelic aura," she said, shaking it back and forth.

Kurt clapped his hands. "Put it on me! Put it on me!" he said.

* * *

Blaine trailed behind Wes and Jo. "I look ridiculous," he grumbled.

"You look amazing," Jo said, unperturbed.

"If anything, we look ridiculous," Wes added, tugging on his costume. "At least your girlfriend didn't make you dress up like a superhero."

"Yeah, who are you guys supposed to be again?" Blaine asked as they got in line to enter the St. Liliana's ballroom.

"Gambit and Rogue, Blaine, Gambit and Rogue," Jo said. "From X-Men."

"Well, at least you guys are more interesting than my costume," Blaine. "I don't think this even counts as a costume."

"Your guyliner is nice," Wes snickered.

Blaine halted. "I told you, Joanna," he said. "I'm going to go wash this off."

"No, you're not," Jo said, taking him by the wrist and dragging him back into the line. "You look fine."

"I look like a _dweeb_," Blaine said, tugging on the devil horns sticking out of his thick hair. "Seriously, Jo, if you hadn't dragged me off campus, I would just march back up to my room and get out my Neo costume from last year."

"That costume sucked," Wes remarked.

"No, it didn't," Blaine mumbled.

He followed the happy, hand-holding couple down the broad staircase into the St. Liliana's ballroom. The darkened room was hung with various Halloween decorations and decked with flickering candles. Dalton and St. Liliana's students milled about in their costumes, some of them sipping punch and chatting, some of them dancing to the music the DJ was playing.

"Come on, perk up," Jo said, nudging his shoulder.

Blaine accepted a cup of punch with a nod and a smile to the freshman in the princess dress behind the table. She giggled and hid behind her hand. "You think this is spiked?" he asked.

"Probably not yet," Wes said.

"I wish it was," Blaine sighed, staring into the neon orange depths. "So when are the others getting here?"

"David's around here somewhere," Wes said, glancing around the crowded ballroom. "Lucy's probably still getting Kurt all dolled up."

The song switched to one of Pink's new hits. "Ooh!" Jo exclaimed. "Ooh, Wes, come on, we have to dance."

"What if I say no?" Wes asked.

"That is an unacceptable answer!" Jo said, taking him by the hand and dragging him onto the dance floor. Wes's protests died fairly quickly as they started dancing.

Blaine swirled his punch around in his cup. This was going to be like every other dance he'd been to. A dance or two with Jo, a dance or two with Lucy. A few dances with a couple other guys, mostly just out of courtesy, seeing as how there were still very few of them within the Dalton student body and they felt obligated to stick together. Then the Warblers would be called up on to perform something, and then he would be swarmed by girls, most of them freshman that didn't know he batted for the other team. Then he was sit on the sidelines, watching the other couples dance.

Yeah. This was going to be fun.

Blaine sighed into his punch cup and surveyed the ballroom. His gaze caught on the stairs and he choked, neon orange liquid dripping inelegantly down his chin.

Kurt stood on the stairs, caught under the lights. He wore tight white pants that showed off the curves of his long, long legs, ending in white laced ankle boots. His white top was sleeveless and draped over his slender chest. He bit his lip as he surveyed the full ballroom beneath him, one hand resting lightly on the railing.

The rest of Blaine's punch dribbled out of his slack mouth.

Lucy ran down the stairs to catch up to Kurt, her short skirt flaring and her red hair catching the light as she took him by the hand. Blaine watched them head down the stairs towards him. He quickly brushed the last drops of punch off his lips.

"Hi, Blaine," Lucy said breathlessly, still holding Kurt's hand.

"Hello, Miss Mary Jane Watson," Blaine grinned, doing his best to act nonchalant, even though Kurt was mere inches away. "What's with you and Jo going the superhero route this year?" Lucy shrugged. "You know I only dress up as redheads," she said. "I was flipping through Jo's Marvel encyclopedia and thought it would work. Have you seen my Spiderman?"

"He's apparently around here somewhere," Blaine said. "Want me to go find him for you?"

"No, no, I can handle it," Lucy said. "Your costume is fantastic! Jo did a good job."

"Yeah, well, I wish she had come up with a better idea than dressing me up as a devil," Blaine said.

"Oh, but it's cute," Lucy said, her eyes dancing mischievously. "Look, there's David, I'll see you boys later, all right?"

She darted off into the crowd. Blaine cleared his throat and glanced at Kurt out of the corner of his eye. "So, uh, nice costume," he ventured.

"Thank you," Kurt said politely. "I, um, like yours. You're a devil?"

"That's what Jo decided," Blaine said, smiling wryly. He plucked at his red suspenders. "Dumb, isn't it?"

"No, it's fantastic," Kurt said quickly. "She did a good job."

Blaine ran his finger along the rim of his punch cup. "So, uh…what did Lucy dress you up as?" he asked.

Kurt turned around. Blaine choked again. Kurt's top draped loosely over him, showing off a ridiculous amount of his smooth bare back. Two small white feather wings were clipped to his shoulders. "An angel," Kurt confessed. "It's sort of silly."

"No, no, I don't think so," Blaine said. "You look, uh, you look pretty good. I mean, Lucy picked out a good costume for you."

Kurt ducked his head, his cheek turning pink in the dimmed lights. "Thank you," he said. "I have to admit, it's not quite what I would have chosen, but I think I like it." "Well, if that's what Lucy picks out for you, you should take her with you next time you go shopping with Mercedes," Blaine said.

_Oh no, _he thought. _Was, uh…was that too much?_

Judging by the way Kurt's cheeks turned from pink to red, it probably was.

The two of them fell into awkward silence, watching the other couples dancing to the heavy dance beat. Blaine gazed across the swarm of people, unfamiliar in their costumes. Snow White and a prince, Scott Pilgrim and Ramona Flowers, Alice and the Mad Hatter…

Blaine's heart did a backflip in his chest. _Everyone is in a couple's costume, _he thought. _It's…it's a couples' dance. And I…_

Blaine looked down at his black and red devil costume, then glanced over at Kurt, radiant in his white clothes and feathered wings. He swallowed hard.

_Oh, sweet merciful baby Jesus…I am going to kill Jo._

Kurt smoothed his bangs, brushing his fingers against the gold circlet resting on his soft brown hair. It made him look like some sort of angelic prince. And was that...was he wearing mascara?

_And while I'm at it, I'll kill Lucy too._

They sat uncomfortably through several songs. A couple of people came over to chat with them, but no one lingered long. Blane fidgeted with his punch cup.

_Ask him to dance, _he thought. _Ask him to dance, ask him to dance, just ask him to effing dance._

He watched Kurt from under his lashes. Kurt watched the couples go by, his blue-green eyes shining, but he said nothing. He didn't even look towards him.

Blaine leaned towards him and touched Kurt's bare arm lightly. "Hey, Kurt, I was wondering-"

"Hey, you guys!" David called. Blaine started, pulling away as David and Wes, flanked by their girlfriends, walked over to them. "Having fun?"

"Mm-hm," Kurt said, smiling sweetly.

"Have you guys danced with anyone yet?" Lucy asked, brushing her hair out of her flushed face.

"No, not yet," Blaine said, frowning. _Maybe they'll get the message…_

Jo turned to Wes. "Wesley, may I ask my gay boyfriend to dance?" she inquired.

"Yes, you may," Wes said. "I'm going to eat something. Just remember to come back, okay?"

"I will, I will," Jo promised.

Lucy tugged on David's sleeve. "Can I ask Kurt to dance?" she asked.

"Only if he wants to," David warned.

"Sure," Kurt said, holding out his hand like a gentleman. Lucy laughed and took his hand as he led her out to the dance floor. Blaine watched them disappear into the crowd.

"…Blaine? Are you listening to me?" Jo asked, scowling.

He blinked. "Uh, yeah," he said. "Want to dance?"

"I already asked you that," she said. She grabbed his hand and dragged him onto the floor.

"Ugh, do we have to dance to a Ke$ha song?" he complained.

"Blaine Anderson," Jo snapped. "Are you _trying _to screw this up?"

"What? The song?"

"No," Jo said, rolling her eyes. "Lucy and I have done everything we can to give you and Kurt a chance to at least dance together, so why are you just leaning against the wall moping?"

"I'm not moping, I'm dancing with you," Blaine pointed out. He paused. "Wait, what? What are you and Lucy doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Jo said. "You won't stop with the eyesex, and Kurt won't stop blushing and giggling. You want in each other's pants so bad that a blind man could see it."

"Gee, thanks, Jo," Blaine said.

He glanced over at Kurt and Lucy. Kurt had his arms above his head while he danced, the hem of his shirt raising up, revealing several inches of his perfect pale skin.

"Close your mouth, Blaine, you're drooling," Jo smirked. "Listen, we're not trying to get you to drag him into a bathroom stall and ravish him or anything. Just ask him to dance."

Blaine sighed. "I'll try," he said.

* * *

Kurt glanced back at Jo and Blaine. "All right, spill," Lucy said.

"Spill what?" he asked, turning back to her.

"About you and Blaine," she said.

"What about us?" he asked, frowning.

"Hasn't you asked him to dance yet?" Lucy asked.

Kurt glanced over his shoulder again. "No," he said reluctantly. "He didn't…he didn't really seem like he was in a dancing mood. He just seemed uncomfortable."

Blaine didn't seem to have problem dancing with Jo, though. The two of them looked like they were having quite a pleasant time. Kurt barely suppressed a sigh.

"You could have at least asked," Lucy said. "I don't think Blaine would have turned you down. I don't think he's ever turned anyone down." She frowned. "Except for last year, when his douchebag ex-boyfriend Chad showed up at our spring formal and tried to get him to dance with him. But that's an exception."

"There's just one problem," Kurt said, hesitating a little. He bit his lip. "I've never been to a school dance before, much less asked someone to dance with me."

Lucy halted. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Doesn't McKinley have dances?"

"Sure, but I've never been asked to any of them," he said unhappily.

"You didn't even go with friends?" she asked.

He ducked his head. "That wasn't really an option until last year," he said.

Lucy took both of his hands and squeezed them. "I'm sorry," she said. "I promise you, though, if you ask Blaine to dance with you, he's not going to turn you down."

"I don't think I want him to do it out of pity," he said.

"It won't be," Lucy assured him. "Just trust me. Go over there and ask him to dance."

"Maybe for the next song," Kurt hedged.

"Kurt, just do it."

"I don't know, maybe…"

Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he spun around, his feathered wings flapping lightly against his nearly-bare back. "Hi," Blaine smiled.

Kurt blinked. "Hi," he said.

"Lucy, do you mind if I cut in?" Blaine inquired. "That is, if Kurt doesn't mind."

"Oh, I don't mind if he doesn't," Lucy said. She winked at Kurt.

Blaine turned to him. Kurt looked him up and down- his black button-up shirt and tight black jeans converses, red suspenders and skinny red tie, and of course, the red devil horns sticking out of his dark curls. "Um, no, no, I don't mind," Kurt said, mouth suddenly dry.

Blaine grinned, one corner of his mouth tilting up more than the other. "Well, then," he said. "Kurt, will you dance with me?"

"Sure," Kurt said.

Blaine held out his hand and Kurt slipped his fingers into his. He looked down at his shoes as Blaine pulled him further onto the dance floor. _Oh my god, I've forgotten how to dance, _he thought. _What should I do? I don't know what I'm supposed to do…_

Blaine didn't seem to be fazed, dancing close to him with a smile playing over his lips. Kurt tried his best to relax. He liked the song, it was old-school Avril Lavigne, and he forced himself to stop over thinking.

However, it was just his luck that just as he was starting to calm down, the song switched. And it was now a slow song.

"Oh," Kurt said, taking a step back. "Oh, well, uh…we can wait until it gets backs to a faster song again."

Blaine laughed softly. "It's okay," he said. "It's just a slow song. Nothing to be scared of."

Kurt stared up at him as Blaine slipped his hands over his hips and tugged him gently closer. "Oh," he said stupidly.

Blaine smiled. "You can put your arms around my neck, if you'd like," he said.

"Sorry," Kurt apologized. He reached up, resting his arms on Blaine's broad shoulders.

"Your first slow dance with a guy?" Blaine asked.

"First slow dance ever," he admitted. "My dancing experience has been limited to glee, impromptu dance parties with my girlfriends, and an ill-fated attempt at ballet lessons when I was five."

"Didn't enjoy it as much as you thought?" Blaine asked.

"Too many rules," Kurt said. "I was a bit stubborn for a kindergartener."

"But probably adorable," Blaine added. He stepped a little closer, swaying in time with the music. "I tried ice skating when I was seven. Let's just say that it was quite clear that the Olympics weren't in my future."

Kurt smiled, ducking his head. Blaine's hands were warm and firm on his hips. "Thanks for dancing with me," he said.

"You don't have to thank me," Blaine said. "I wanted to dance with you." He paused. "You're having fun, right?"

"I am," Kurt reassured him quickly. "This is a lot of fun."

"Well, good," Blaine said. He smiled, absently rubbing his thumb against the hint of smooth skin above the waistband of Kurt's tight jeans. "If this is your first slow dance with a guy, I want it to be a good one."

Kurt smiled at him. "It is," he said. "Thank you."

Blaine smelled amazing, like cologne and cinnamon gum. His shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, revealing a triangle of smooth tanned skin, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Kurt could see the faint hint of stubble on his cheeks and the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. Suddenly all he wanted out of life was to press against Blaine's chest and rest his head against his shoulder.

The song trailed off at the end, fading away into the sounds of the crowd. Kurt leaned back reluctantly. "Thanks for the dance," he said.

"Come on," Blaine coaxed. "One more song? I think they're doing a fast one this time."

Kurt smiled. "I suppose I can do one more, if you insist," he said. The music started up and he brightened. "Oh my god, I love this song!"

"I thought you hated Katy Perry," Blaine said. "Didn't you say she's an autotuned pop tart?"

"I can make exceptions," Kurt grinned.

The slow, steady beat pulsed over the dance floor. Kurt relaxed into it. His stomach still twisted with nervous butterflies, but it was getting easier to relax, even with Blaine holding onto his hips.

Blaine was humming along with the song, his eyes half-lidded. "You know, for your first time dancing, you're pretty good," he commented.

"I don't really know what I'm doing," Kurt admitted. "Sometimes it sucks to be absolutely inexperienced."

"It's fine, everyone was inexperienced in the beginning," Blaine said. "Just do whatever feels right. I'm not going to make fun of you."

Kurt bit his lip, trying fervently to convince himself to stop over thinking. It wasn't necessarily going well. But he decided to be brave.

He rolled his hips lightly to the beat of the music. Blaine grinned at him. "See? Perfect," he said. "Let loose a little."

Kurt grinned back, this time a little more wickedly, and rocked his hips. Blaine's smile widened. Kurt pressed a little closer as Blaine's hands crept around to the small of his back. He shivered at the light touch of Blaine's fingers against his bare skin.

Kurt raised his arms as he danced up against Blaine, feeling the hem of his bias-cut top hiking up. He noticed Blaine's eyes flicking down to catch a glimpse of his soft pale skin. "What are you looking at?" he teased.

"You're all, uh…sparkly," Blaine said.

"Not sparkly, I am shimmering," Kurt corrected. "I am not a creepy vampire."

"Fine, you're all shimmery," Blaine grinned. He reached up and flicked one of Kurt's wings. "I didn't know angels shimmered." "Apparently we do," Kurt said. He laughed and touched the side of Blaine's neck with his fingertip. "I think my shimmer is rubbing off on you."

"I don't mind," Blaine grinned, pulling Kurt by the hips closer to him.

_Should I do it? _Kurt thought. _Could I…is it a good idea? Will he hate me? Will he get freaked out?_

Before he could stop himself he rocked his hips up against Blaine. Blaine's grip inadvertently tightened. Kurt's heartbeat sped up.

_I think that was okay, _he thought. _At least…I think so…_

He rocked against him again. Blaine moved against him, his hands locked against the small of his back. Kurt slipped his arms around his neck again. He leaned closer to Blaine, listening to him hum along with the song. But Blaine's humming slowly faltered, getting softer and rougher.

Kurt bumped his pelvis against Blaine's, and Blaine suddenly stumbled back. "Sorry, Kurt, I, uh…I've got to go, but, uh…I'll be right back, and, uh…" he mumbled, dropping his hands from Kurt's waist and disappearing into the crowd.

Kurt stood still in the middle of the dance floor, staring at him with his mouth agape. _Oh my god, I messed up, _he thought, his heart thumping against his ribcage.

"Whoa, where did Blaine go?" David asked, navigating towards him with his arm still around Lucy.

"I don't know, he just…he just ran away," Kurt said.

Lucy scowled. "What's wrong with him?" she asked.

"Well, pity he didn't leave a single shoe behind, then it would be perfect," Wes commented. Jo elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

Kurt still stared into the crowd. "I…I don't know what I did wrong, but he just…just left," he said forlornly.

Wes frowned and dug through the pockets of his costume. "Who's calling me?" he griped. He pulled his phone out, then burst out laughing. "Oh my god! David, David, you've got to see this!"

"See what?" David asked, leaning over Wes's shoulder. He looked at the text and immediately started howling. "Oh, that's fantastic!"

"What? What is it?" Jo asked.

"Come on, David, let's go find Blaine," Wes said, stowing the phone back in his pocket. "Ladies, take care of our favorite countertenor. We need him in a good mood if we're going to pull off our impromptu performance."

"You mean your _staged _impromptu performance," Jo countered, and Wes rolled his eyes.

"I don't understand," Kurt said miserably. "What's going on?"

Lucy slipped her arm around his waist. "We'll figure it out," she said. "And if Blaine's being a douche, trust me. We'll take care of it. Now come on. Jo and I will fuss over you."

Kurt glanced over his shoulder at Wes and David as they sauntered off in the opposite direction. _I don't think they can get me to feel better about this, _he thought.

* * *

Blaine paced up and down. The door swung open and he started. "Oh, it's just you," he said.

David closed the door behind them. "Care to explain what's going on?" he asked.

"I thought my text explained it," he said.

Wes held up his phone. "All you did was text 'MAILMAN' in all caps," he said. "That explains very little. What we're guessing is that Kurt put the dirty dancing moves on you and you came quite close to something quite undapper."

"I'm going to kill Lucy for putting him in that angel costume," Blaine mumbled.

"He is unfairly attractive in that outfit," David commented.

"Not helping," Wes said. "And also, awkward."

Blaine kept pacing. "I've never had to deal with this, you guys," he said. "I mean, yeah, I've danced with guys before, and it's been hot, but this was…was…" He struggled to find the right words.

"Unbearably hot?" David suggested.

"More like unbearably uncomfortable," Wes said. "Why are we having this conversation?"

"Think of it as payback for all the times you've come to me with your girl problems," Blaine said. He sighed and halted his pacing, leaning his back against the sink. "I just didn't want to get too…you know. On Kurt. I didn't want to freak him out."

"I think you freaked him out more by pulling a Cinderella," David remarked. "Look, if you're…you know, under control again, you need to get out there. Partially because those St. Liliana's girls are going to be all over you to start singing in a few minutes, and partially because if you don't make things right with Kurt, he's going to spend the rest of the party crying in a corner, and you will have officially ruined his first school dance."

Blaine sighed heavily. "I really screwed this up, didn't I?" he said.

"It could have been worse," Wes said, clapping him cheerfully on the shoulder. "Now let's get out there and eyesex it up for the ladies, shall we?"

"If I must," Blaine said reluctantly.

* * *

Kurt sang along with the rest of the Warblers through the background vocals of "Teenage Dream." He could already see a couple of freshman girls gazing at him with stars in their eyes; he hoped that they at least wouldn't throw rocks through his windshield when they found out he didn't swing their way.

Blaine belted out the lead vocals, still as charming as ever. Kurt tried not to think about him. Apparently he had some sort of…wardrobe malfunction. Or he was sick. Wes and David weren't exactly clear. But Blaine had apologized for running off, and at least he was fairly certain that he wasn't mad at him.

Blaine glanced back at him as he sang through the song. He smiled, and he briefly winked at him. Kurt kept singing, but he couldn't help but blush a little bit.

_This just isn't fair, _he thought. _Blaine makes me go weak at the knees, and I don't think I could do that to him._

_

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**

SOMEONE, ANYONE, PLEASE...please draw Kurt and Blaine in their Halloween costumes. It would be epic of a million kinds.

This is such a random song. Initially I had trouble thinking of an idea, but then I kept zeroing in on the "could you be the devil? could you be an angel?" line and all I could think of was Blaine dressed as a devil and Kurt dressing as an angel and...and...poof! This appeared.

Not really. But still.

At least this distracted me from these last awful hiatus days. Seriously, all I want is to have the hiatus over. I refuse to pass any judgement on anyone until I have seen the episode. That is my story. The end.

In the meantime, I'll just write happy sexydancing Klaine. Yeeeaaah.

**In the next chapter: "Lost"**


	7. Lost

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me. "Lost" belongs to Katy Perry.

* * *

Is there a light?

Is there a light at the end of the road?

I'm pushing everyone away

'Cause I can't feel this anymore

Can't feel this anymore

Have you ever been so lost?

Known the way, and still, so lost?

Another night waiting for someone to take me home

Have you ever been so lost?

-_"Lost"_

_

* * *

_

"Anderson. Wake up. Your boyfriend is barfing all over the junior bathroom."

Blaine pushed himself off his pillow, rubbing his eyes sleepily against the crack of light streaming through the open door. "Don't got a boyfriend," he mumbled.

"Kurt," his roommate grunted. Paul picked up a pillow and chucked it at him from across the room. "He means Kurt, okay? Pretty sure he means Kurt."

Blaine sat up, pushing his blankets back. "What's wrong with Kurt?" he asked. "Is he okay?"

He fumbled for his glasses and squinted at the shadowed figure in the doorway. Nathaniel leaned against the wall. The tall blond Warbler was an RA for the junior dorm wing, and if he was in the senior hall at one in the morning, it could only mean bad news.

"I was doing the last room check when I walked past Kurt's room and it was empty," Nathaniel explained.

"Wait, what?" he said. "What do you mean, empty?"

"The door was open and the light was on," Nathaniel said. "I thought it was strange, but I thought he might just be in the bathroom or something. So I went in to check, and he was getting sick."

Blaine rubbed his hands through his hair. "Is he okay?" he asked.

"I asked him, and he said he was fine, but he didn't sound okay," Nathaniel said. "He thanked me for checking on him and told me to go back to bed. Then he threw up again."

"That's not good," Blaine murmured. He struggled out of the covers, shivering a little in the cold air of his dorm room.

"I'm going to go get the nurse, but I didn't want to leave him alone for too long," Nathaniel said. "Can you stay with him?"

"Sure, sure," Blaine said. Out of habit he picked his phone and key lanyard off his nightstand, then followed Nathaniel down the hall.

"Close the door," Paul whined. "Letting the light in." Blaine rolled his eyes and obeyed.

"I figured you were the best person to call," Nathaniel said. "I'll make sure you don't get in trouble with your RA."

"Oh, Wade won't care," Blaine said. He strode beside Nathaniel through the silent, slightly creepy halls of the school; he was beginning to wake up and the thought of Kurt being sick was starting to make him anxious. "What do you think is wrong with him?"

"Probably a virus or something," Nathaniel said. "Stuff like that usually gets around in the dorms. Listen, go check on him and see if you can get him to rest. I'll bring the nurse in to take a look at him. Hopefully he won't have to go to the emergency room or anything."

"I hope not," Blaine said. Nathaniel clapped him on the shoulder before he headed further down the hall; Blaine took the stairs to the junior dorms.

He was not good with sick people. Not good at all. They made him nervous and uncomfortable, and he was always unreasonably worried that he was going to catch what they had. And that always left him chugging orange juice, popping vitamins, and checking his temperature for the next several days, just in case he was coming down with something.

But Kurt was sick. And apparently being stubborn about it. And Blaine had to be the one to talk him down.

Blaine paused outside the door to the junior bathrooms, squared his shoulders, and stepped inside. "Hey, Kurt?" he ventured.

He surveyed the stalls. One door was closed, and he was pretty sure he could see someone kneeling on the floor. He heard whoever it was cough.

"Kurt?" he ventured.

_Please don't be Kurt, _he thought. _Please, let it be anyone but Kurt._

"Oh," he heard Kurt said. "Hi, Blaine."

Blaine approached the locked stall door warily. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Kurt said, not bothering to open the door.

"Are you sure you're not sick?" Blaine asked.

"I'm…I'm not feeling that fantastic, but I'm not sick," Kurt said. "Thanks for checking on me, but you can go back to bed. I'll be okay."

"Kurt, aren't you throwing up?" Blaine said.

"It's just…just something I ate," Kurt said. "Thanks for checking on me, Blaine. I appreciate it, but I'm not sick."

"Kurt-" "You can go back to bed," Kurt offered. "If I'm not feeling well in the morning, I'll stay in bed, okay? But I'm…I'm fine."

There was a certain finality to Kurt's tone that Blaine didn't like, but he knew that he couldn't fight him. Not right now. "All right," Blaine said finally. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Mm-hm," Kurt said.

Blaine walked back towards the door, opened it, and let it close.

Fine. Two could play at this game.

Blaine tiptoed across the slick tiled floor, his socked feet making no sound. He lifted himself carefully onto the bathroom counter and waited.

It took a few minutes, but he heard Kurt sigh softly, the breath catching in his throat, and then the painful, strangled sound of retching. Blaine winced as he listened to Kurt throw up.

_He really is sick, _he thought. _Why wouldn't he tell anyone?_

Blaine shifted uncomfortably. Kurt was sick. Kurt was really, really sick.

_He better not give it to me, _he thought.

At long last he heard the toilet flush and the lock on the stall click. Blaine braced himself. This was not going to go well, he was sure of it.

Kurt shuffled out of the bathroom stall, his head down. His Dalton Warblers tee shirt and blue polka dot pajamas were badly wrinkled, like he had been tossing and turning for hours before he finally got up, and his arms were wrapped tightly around his stomach. He wandered towards the sink and glanced up at the mirror, then started.

"Oh my god," Kurt mumbled, bracing his hands on either side of the sink and hanging his head. "I thought…I thought you left."

"Kurt, you're really sick," Blaine said. "What if you had passed out or something?"

Kurt exhaled slowly. "I wouldn't have passed out," he said. "I'm…I'm okay."

Blaine slid off the counter. "Look, I don't want to argue with you right now," he said gently. "Nathaniel went down to get the nurse. Rinse your mouth and let's get you back to bed."

"Blaine, I don't-"

Blaine put his hand on Kurt's back, feeling the bumps of his spine and the heat radiating from his skin through his tee shirt. "Just do it, okay?" he said.

Kurt sighed and turned on the tap, rinsing his mouth out with cool water, then straightened slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He pushed himself back, wavering a little on his feet. Instinctively Blaine put a hand out to steady him. "I'm all right," Kurt said.

Blaine put his arm around Kurt's waist. "Let's get you back to your room so you can lie down," he said. "You can lean on me, okay?"

Kurt said nothing, but Blaine felt him sag against his side. He tightened his arm around his slender waist and guided him down the hall to his dorm. Kurt's usually pristine room was unusually cluttered; homework spread across his desk and his uniform from yesterday was scattered across the floor.

_I wonder if he just went to bed right after Warbler rehearsal last night, _he thought. He tried to think back to last night's practice. Now that he thought about it, Kurt had been fairly quiet. Actually, he'd been fairly quiet for a while now.

Blaine helped Kurt over to his bed and pulled the rumpled covers back. "Okay, lie down," he said.

Kurt sank down onto his mattress, drawing his legs up as he tugged at his sheets. Blaine smoothed them out and pulled them up to his shoulders. "Thanks," Kurt mumbled. "I can take it from here. It's…it's probably just a virus or something."

"I'll stay with you until Nathaniel and the nurse get here," Blaine said. He placed his hand lightly on Kurt's forehead. "You're really warm."

Kurt closed his eyes. "I don't have a fever," he murmured. "I'm cold."

Blaine looked down at Kurt. His pale face was blotchy and his eyes were red and swollen. He burrowed deeper under his covers, shivering a little. "Kurt, you've got to face this," Blaine said gently. "You're sick. Really sick."

Kurt turned his face away. "I can't be sick," he mumbled. "Just give me some Tylenol and let me sleep, okay?"

Blaine patted his back lightly. "You get ornery when you're sick," he commented. He trailed his fingertips in light, hopefully soothing swirls between Kurt's shoulderblades. "Just relax, okay? You're going to be fine."

Kurt didn't answer, just kept his face turned away. Blaine stayed silent too, his fingers still making the smooth loopy circles on Kurt's back.

Nathaniel cracked the door open. "Hey, Kurt," he said. He glanced from Kurt huddled in the bed to Blaine sitting next to him. "Is he awake?"

"I think so," Blaine said.

Kurt struggled into a sitting position. "I'm awake," he mumbled. "I'm fine."

"I'll be the judge of that," the nurse said. A tall woman in her late thirties, she had been the on-call nurse for the dorms for the past five years; Blaine hoped she didn't remember the time he was a freshman and rolled out of his bed in his sleep, breaking his pinky finger in the process. "All right, honey, open your mouth. I've got to take your temperature."

Kurt obeyed reluctantly. Blaine resisted the urge to smile. Kurt looked like such a child, with his hair tousled and his cheeks flushed and his tee shirt slipping off one shoulder. It was…well, it would be completely adorable if he hadn't been so sick.

The nurse took the thermometer out of his mouth. "You're running a fever of 102.2," she said.

"But I'm cold," Kurt objected.

"Yes, well, they're called chills, honey," the nurse said, rummaging through her kit. She pulled out an ice pack and cracked it, then put it over Kurt's forehead. "And you've been throwing up?"

"Quite a bit," Blaine interrupted.

"It might be just a virus," the nurse said. "Have you had any other symptoms? Headache or anything?"

"Not really," Kurt said, but he kept his eyes closed. That was never a good sign.

Blaine edged a little closer. "Kurt, are you sure?" he said. "There's not anything else bothering you? Anything at all."

Kurt opened his eyes slowly, his eyes shining pale green under his thick fringe of lashes. "I've got…there's this spot on my side that really hurts," he confessed.

"All right, then, let me take a look," the nurse said.

Kurt shifted on his bed to lie on his left side, twisting the blankets around his legs and wincing a little. Blaine reached over on instinct to take the cold pack from his forehead and give his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.

The nurse lifted the hem of Kurt's tee shirt up over his ribcage. Blaine leaned over to look and let out a low whistle. A angry red splotch spread over Kurt's ribs. "Well," the nurse said. She prodded it lightly and Kurt flinched. "Honey, have you ever had chicken pox before?"

"Yeah, when I was four or something," Kurt mumbled into his pillow.

"Does he have the chicken pox?" Nathaniel asked. "I mean, I've had it, but I know that a couple of the Warblers haven't."

The nurse turned to Blaine. "Have you had it?" she asked.

"Second grade," Blaine stammered. "Why? What's wrong with him?"

The nurse smoothed the skin around the red mark. "I think it's shingles," she said. "In layman's terms, it's a complication of chicken pox. Have you been stressed lately? Sometimes stress can trigger shingles."

Kurt propped himself up on his elbows, his shirt sliding over his back. "You're not serious?" he said.

"I'm serious," the nurse said, making him lie back down. "You're not sick enough to qualify for a trip to the emergency room, but when the campus doctor gets here in the morning you'll want to get yourself down to the dispensary. You'll have to start a round of antibiotics, and you'll have to stay in bed for at least a week."

Kurt closed his eyes. Blaine draped the cold compress over his hot forehead again and patted his shoulder. "Hey, it's not that bad," he smiled. "You get a whole week to lounge around and do nothing."

Kurt covered his eyes with his forearm, his lips pressing down into a thin line. "I can't," he said, his voice wavering. "I…I just can't…can't you just give me a prescription or something?"

"It doesn't work like that," the nurse said. "You have to give the antibiotics time to work. Besides, you're contagious to anyone who hasn't had the chicken pox. You've got to rest."

Blaine watched Kurt bite down hard on his lip, his eyes still covered by his arm. "Could…could you give us a second?" he ventured.

"Sure, I'll just go ahead and fill out the absence paperwork to give his teachers," the nurse said. She moved over to Kurt's desk; Nathaniel disappeared into the hall.

Blaine took Kurt gingerly by the wrist, his fingers closing carefully over the frail bones, and gently moved his arm away. "Hey," he said. Kurt's eyes were closed tightly. "Hey, talk to me. What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? I'm sick and highly contagious, I'm guessing that's what's wrong," Kurt said sharply

Blaine readjusted the ice pack on Kurt's hot forehead. "Why don't you want to rest?" he asked. "Why do you feel like you need to hide how sick you are?"

Kurt still didn't open his eyes. "Because I'm still trying to catch up in all my classes," he said in a low voice. "Because my parents sacrificed their honeymoon to send me here, and I don't want to let them down. Because I can't miss Warbler rehearsal or I'll get kicked out. Because I…"

Kurt broke off in midsentence. His lips were trembling_._

_Please don't cry, please don't cry, _Blaine thought fervently. _I don't think I can handle him crying._

"It's okay," he said aloud. He squeezed Kurt's upper arm. "It's going to be okay. The Warblers won't kick you out, and we'll make sure you get all of your homework assignments. You won't get behind. I promise." He forced himself to sound lighthearted. "We'll start you on the antibiotics tomorrow to get you feeling better, and then you'll spend a week in your bed watching movies. That doesn't sound too bad, does it?"

"I guess," Kurt whispered. He opened his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Blaine readjusted the covers around Kurt. His cheeks were still flushed, but Blaine could see him shivering. Thoughtfully he put his hand over Kurt's, rubbing his thumb against the curve of his palm.

He still remembered the first time he got sick on campus. It was a bad chest cold his first semester, when he was a freshman. He had wandered down to the dispensary after lunch and huddled on one of the beds, feverish and miserable and just a little scared at being all by himself in a strange school. But the nurse had called his parents and his mother was there within an hour to take him home. He spent three days at home on the couch with his family fussing over him, still feeling sick but at least reassured by the comforting normalcy of home.

Blaine glanced back down at Kurt, who had curled up on his side, knees tucked up to his stomach. A plan started formulating in his head before he could stop it. "I'll be right back, okay?" he murmured, patting Kurt on the back, but careful to avoid the sore spot on his side. Kurt nodded, burying his cheek in his pillow.

Blaine slid off the edge of the bed, trying not to jostle him, and walked over to the nurse. "So you're sure he has to stay in bed for a week?" he said.

"I'm completely sure," the nurse said absently.

"But it doesn't matter where that bed is, right?" Blaine said.

The nurse looked him up and down. "Honey, did you fall out of bed again?" she asked. "Maybe hit your head this time?"

"No, no," Blaine said quickly, trying not to blush in embarrassment. "I was just wondering…his family's not too far away. Is there any way that he can leave campus and stay home for the week."

"Only if you know a way of getting him there," the nurse said. "But sure, if he wants to go home, then I'm all for it."

Blaine slipped out into the hall. Nathaniel leaned against the far wall, hands in the pockets of his navy flannel pajama pants. "What's going on?" he asked, pushing off the wall.

"I'm about to do something potentially stupid," Blaine said. "Can you go down to my room and grab my hoodie, my Converses, and my car keys?"

"Yeah, but-"

"I'll explain later," Blaine said. "Can you do it?"

Nathaniel blinked. "Sure, I guess," he said. "I'll be right back."

Blaine went back into Kurt's dorm room. Kurt was still curled up under the covers, the blankets drawn up to his chin, shivering violently. His greenish eyes were open, but glazed over and vacant. Blaine smiled down at him, hoping to coax some kind of reaction out of him, but Kurt didn't react.

Carefully Blaine sat down beside him, putting his hand on his back. "Hey," he said softly. "Get up. I'm taking you home."

Kurt looked up at him, blinking rapidly. "Really?" he whispered. "You're gonna take me home?"

"Uh-huh," Blaine smiled. "Come on. Sit up. Do you need help?"

Kurt started to push himself up, the blankets sliding away from his shoulders. He swayed a little bit as he sat upright, and Blaine quickly moved beside him, sliding one arm around his waist. "Go slow," he warned. "You don't want to black out."

"I'm fine," Kurt said. "I'm…I'm…"

He put his hands out to brace himself. "You're okay," Blaine said. "Here, just slide your legs over the side of the bed."

Kurt shifted a little, trying to move. Blaine kept his arm around his waist, doing his best to support him. "Sit here, I'm going to get your shoes," he said.

"Get the Sperrys," Kurt mumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"The what?" Blaine said.

"The light blue boat shoes," Kurt said as he leaned heavily on his knees. "They're the only things that won't clash. And they don't have any laces."

Blaine dug through the hanging shoe rack until he found the shoes that he was pretty sure met Kurt's description. "These them?" he asked, holding them up. Kurt nodded. He set them on the floor in front of Kurt; Kurt inched to the edge of the bed and slid his feet into them carefully.

"All right, honey, I've got all of this taken care of," the nurse said. "I'll email your teachers and let them know you'll be absent for at least a week. When you get to the doctor and they get you your prescriptions, have them fax the information over here. You'll be excused from your classes, no penalties."

She pulled a blister pack of pills from her kit. "Take two of these with plenty of water. They'll help with your fever and nausea." She patted his shoulder. "Get well soon, honey. And don't give it to anyone else."

"I'll try," Kurt quipped weakly.

The nurse let herself out of the room. Blaine dug the pills out of the silver blister pack and put them carefully into Kurt's hand. "Do you have a water bottle or something?" he asked.

"Gatorade on my dresser," Kurt said.

Blaine patted his knee and got up. He found two bottles of Gatorade, one half-full and the other unopened, plus a packet of stomach pills and a bottle of Tylenol. He twisted off the cap of the half full bottle and handed it over. "You've been sick for a while, haven't you?" he commented.

Kurt swallowed the pills, sipping cautiously at the Gatorade. "About a week and a half," he said quietly.

Blaine folded his arms. "And you didn't tell anyone because…"

Kurt stared into the artificially blue depths of his sports drink. "Because I didn't know what I'm supposed to do," he whispered. "I'm…I'm not good at being sick."

"Clearly," Blaine smiled. He brushed Kurt's hair back from his forehead. "Listen, I'm not going to be hard on you right now, because I know you're miserable, but next time you feel sick, you have to tell someone. Your parents, Mercedes, me, Wes or David. Even Jo or Lucy. Or you could at least go to the nurse's office on your own."

"Didn't know where it was," Kurt mumbled.

Blaine stroked the small of Kurt's back, feeling him shiver despite the heat radiating off his skin. "Next time you're sick, I'll walk you down there myself, all right?" he promised. Kurt nodded, still looking completely miserable. He leaned towards him, his head falling against his broad shoulder.

He couldn't help it. Impulsively Blaine leaned over and kissed him lightly on the temple.

Kurt started, falling back a little and catching himself on the mattress, his eyes wide. Blaine jumped up. "Let's, uh, let's get you your coat, okay?" he said. "You're, uh, you're going to need a coat. It's cold out."

He rummaged through the racks in Kurt's closet, hiding his rapidly reddening face in his clothes. "Do you have anything that's, uh, that's extra warm, and kind of old?" he asked. "Just in case you throw up again."

"You think I might throw up again?" Kurt said, horrified. "Oh, god, I thought I was done…"

Blaine turned around. "I don't know, you might," he said. "Do you have anything? A hoodie, maybe?"

"The only item I'm willing to vomit on is that candy-apple-red Dalton sweater vest," Kurt mumbled.

Nathaniel knocked lightly on the door as he opened it. "Hey, guys," he said. "Kurt, are you doing okay?"

"He's holding up," Blaine said.

Nathaniel handed over a bag. "I've got the stuff you asked for," he said. "Your roommate is scary when he's woken up, by the way."

"That's Paul for you," Blaine said as he pulled on his shoes.

"I didn't know which hoodie you wanted, so I grabbed two of them," Nathaniel said, holding out one in each hand.

Blaine straightened. "Oh, thank God," he said. He took the navy oversized pullover from Nathaniel's hands. "Here, Kurt. Raise your arms for me."

Kurt obeyed, the hem of his tee shirt rising over his stomach. Blaine slid the sleeves over Kurt's slender hands. "I know this isn't very fashionable," he said, pulling it gently over Kurt's head and tugging the hem down. "But this'll keep you warm."

"Thanks," Kurt said, sliding his hands into the front pocket.

Blaine shrugged on the red zipup hoodie. "I'll cover for you," Nathaniel said. "It's within my jurisdiction as an RA, but still you should probably be back here before classes start in the morning."

"I'll do my best," Blaine said, snatching his car keys out of his hand.

Nathaniel knelt down and put his hand on Kurt's knee. "Get better, okay?" he said. "Don't worry about the Warblers. We'll catch you up when you get back."

Kurt nodded as Nathaniel patted his knee and left the room. "Is there anything you need to take home with you?" Blaine asked.

"My laptop and my iPod," Kurt said, rubbing his eyes. "And…and my phone."

Blaine picked them up and put them in Kurt's messenger bag, then slung it over his shoulder. "Okay, let's get you down to my car," he said.

He helped Kurt to his feet and followed him into the hall, turning off the lights and locking the door as they left. "You can lean on me," he offered.

"I think I'm all right," Kurt said, his eyes trained on the floor and one hand trailing against the wall to keep his balance.

"Well, take your time," Blaine said.

Kurt took a lot of time trying to follow him out to the parking lot, especially when they reached the stairs. Blaine stayed as close to him as he dared, one hand nervously extended in case he fell. He didn't, but he took each step one by one. By the time they reached the bottom, Kurt was doubled over, one arm clutched around his stomach.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Blaine asked. "Do you want to take a break?"

Kurt shook his head, unable to speak. Blaine tapped his fingers anxiously on his thigh. This didn't bode well.

Blaine walked a little closer as he pushed the back door open. The cold night air hit them quickly, making Blaine wince and dig his hands in his pockets, clutching at his car keys. He jogged down the three stone steps to the parking lot, then waited. "Kurt?" he said. "Kurt, are you all right?"

Kurt hunched at the top of the steps, both arms around his stomach. "No," he said in a small voice. "I'm gonna…Blaine, I'm gonna throw up."

Blaine ran back up the steps and put his arm around Kurt's shoulder. "It's okay, it's okay," he said. He guided Kurt to the railing; Kurt gripped the cold metal and leaned over the side, making an awful choking noise in the back of his throat. "Kurt, it's okay, go ahead, get it out of your system."

Kurt doubled over and threw up over the side of the railing. Blaine rubbed his back gently. "It's okay," he murmured. "Sh, it's okay."

Finally Kurt straightened, wiping the back of his mouth with his shaking hand. "I…I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be sorry," Blaine said. "You're sick. It's okay."

Kurt took a hesitant step towards the first stair and grabbed the railing as his knees buckled Blaine grabbed him. "Hey, hey, hey, don't push it," he said. "Give yourself a break."

Kurt shook his head, pressing his lips together. "I want to go home," he said. "I just want to go home."

Blaine glanced across the parking lot. He could see his red jeep parked under a lamp. It wasn't that far away. He could probably make it.

"Okay, come here," Blaine said, standing at the bottom step and holding out his arms. "I'm going to carry you."

Kurt took a step back. "No," he said. "No, I'm okay, I'm-"

"Kurt," Blaine said softly. "Just come here. I'm going to carry you to my car."

Tentatively Kurt stepped towards him, his knees still trembling. He slipped his arms around Blaine's neck, his hands lost in the depths of his hoodie sleeves. Blaine put one arm around the small of his back. "It's okay, just relax," Blaine said. He slid his other arm under Kurt's knees and lifted him.

Kurt was only an inch or two taller than him, so he knew it would be easy to carry him. But he hadn't expected Kurt to be so light. Blaine readjusted him carefully, trying to walk as smoothly as he could across the parking lot. Kurt slumped in his arms, his forehead dropping against his shoulder. Blaine rested his cheek briefly against the top of Kurt's head.

"Okay, we're at my car," Blaine said. "I'm going to put you down now."

He bent down and set Kurt on his feet. Kurt leaned against the hood of the, resting heavily on his elbows. Blaine rummaged through his pockets for his keys and unlocked the door. "Okay, come on," Blaine coaxed, tugging him towards the front passenger seat. "You're almost there."

He helped hoist Kurt into the seat, then guided the seatbelt around him. Kurt curled up in the seat, still shivering. Blaine set Kurt's messenger bag on the floor at his feet, closed the door, and crossed around to the driver's seat.

He could do this. Kurt needed him to do this. Kurt needed to go home.

Blaine got into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition. He glanced over at Kurt. "Are you doing all right?" he asked.

"'m fine," Kurt murmured.

Blaine squeezed his knee. "Let me know if you need to throw up again, I'll pull over," he said.

Kurt closed his eyes and nodded miserably. Blaine pulled the jeep out of park and drove out of the Dalton parking lot, praying that they could get to Lima without any real problems.

He had just gotten on the interstate when an idea struck him. "Kurt," he whispered. "Kurt, you awake?"

"Mm-hm," Kurt said.

"Kurt, if you hand me your phone I'll call your dad so he knows we're coming," Blaine said.

Kurt leaned over slowly, fumbled for his phone from the pocket of his messenger bag, and dropped it in Blaine's hand before falling back into his seat. Blaine rubbed his knee sympathetically before scrolling through Kurt's contacts. He picked out the entry for "home," hit talk, and hoped fervently that this would go well.

Burt picked up on the third ring. "H'llo," he grumbled, his voice thick and gruff from sleep.

"Uh, hi, Mr. Hummel, this is Blaine Anderson from Dalton Academy," Blaine stammered. "Kurt's, uh, Kurt's friend."

"Yeah, I know who you are, Blaine, why the hell are you calling me at two in the morning?" Burt mumbled. He coughed. "This about Kurt? He okay?"

Blaine glanced over at Kurt curled up in the seat beside him, swallowed up in the navy blue hoodie. "He's, uh, he's sick," Blaine said.

"What the…how sick? What kind of sick?" Burt demanded, now sounding wide awake. "Is he in the hospital?"

"No, he's not in the hospital," Blaine said quickly. "The nurse at Dalton checked him out and she says he has shingles. He's pretty miserable and he needs to go to the doctor for antibiotics, but he's fine."

He heard Burt sigh heavily over the phone. "Poor kid," he said. "I remember when his mom had that. Okay, tell him I'm on my way."

"Actually, I'm, uh…I'm already driving him home," Blaine said. "We'll be there in about an hour or so. Traffic's pretty quiet."

"Thanks, Blaine," Burt said. "I…I appreciate that. Just bring my boy home safe, all right?"

"I'll do my best, sir," Blaine said.

He heard a woman's voice in the background right before Burt hung up, probably Kurt's stepmother. Blaine let out a long, heavy sigh and glanced back down at Kurt. "Try to get some sleep," he said softly. "You'll be home soon."

Kurt nodded. Blaine popped in the Plans album by death cab for cutie, turning the volume on fairly low, and kept driving. Kurt fell asleep within minutes, his chin tipping down to his chest and his hair falling over his forehead. Blaine glanced at him and smiled.

They made record time to Lima; Blaine found himself pulling into Kurt's driveway just an hour after he got off the phone with Burt. He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over to Kurt. "Hey, we're here," he whispered. He stroked his fingers lightly through Kurt's thick, silky hair, his heart thudding in his chest. "Wake up, babe."

_Babe? _he thought, suddenly mortified even though the only person who had heard him was currently fast asleep. _Where did that come from?_

Before he had a chance to continue his internal scolding, the passenger door swung open. Burt leaned into the car, dressed in old faded jeans and a threadbare tee shirt. "Hey, kiddo," he said, reaching around Kurt to unbuckle his seatbelt. "Come on, kiddo, it's Dad. Wake up, you're home."

Kurt opened his eyes slowly, his lashes fluttering slightly. "Dad?" he whispered.

Burt cupped his hand over Kurt's forehead and brushed his hair out of the way. "God, you're burning up," he said. "Listen, buddy, we're going to take you to the doctor in the morning, but right now we're just going to get you to bed, all right?"

Kurt nodded, inching closer to his father. Burt scooped him up easily, cradling him to his chest, and carried him into the house. Blaine grabbed Kurt's bag and followed them into the house.

Kurt looked even worse in the bright lights of the living room, his skin in stark shades of red and white. Blaine closed the front door behind them, still unnoticed by the rest of the family. Finn dozed on the couch, but he sat up when they walked in.

"Is Kurt okay?" he asked.

"He's gonna be fine," Burt said. "I'm going to take him downstairs."

"Mom's down there already," Finn said.

Burt adjusted his son in his arms. "Finn, make Blaine some coffee, why don't you?" he said. "I think you can manage that."

"Yeah, I can," Finn yawned. Blaine followed him into the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder as Burt carried Kurt down the stairs.

Finn fumbled with the coffee maker. "Is he really that sick?" he said.

"His RA found him throwing up," Blaine said. "He's been feeling bad for a while, he just never told anyone."

Finn shook his head. "Kurt never tells anybody anything," he said. "He could be dying and he'd never tell anybody. It's kind of a miracle you got him to come home."

"I think he wanted to be home," Blaine said. "I think he was waiting for me to ask."

Finn halted, the coffee carafe in his hands. "Huh," he said. "I never thought about asking him."

Blaine patted him on the shoulder. "Maybe try asking him next time when you think something's wrong," he suggested.

"Guess I should," Finn said.

Blaine slid his hands in his hoodie pockets. "I'm, uh…I'm going to go check on Kurt," he said.

"Okay," Finn said, still fiddling with the coffee maker.

Blaine headed down the steps to the basement, holding onto the banister. Carole was tucking Kurt into his own bed, pulling the satin comforter snugly around him. Burt stood close by, his arms folded across his chest, his face drawn in worry.

The bottom step squeaked as he made his way down the stairs. Carole glanced up and smiled at him. "Hi, Blaine," she said.

"How is he?" he asked, approaching carefully.

"Better now that I'm home," Kurt said sleepily.

Burt shifted his weight. "Thanks for getting him here," he said.

"Oh, it's…it's no problem," Blaine said. He looked down at Kurt, cuddly and sleepy under his layers of blankets and Carole's gentle hand on his hair. "No problem at all."

Carole picked up a cool damp washcloth from Kurt's nightstand and placed it on his forehead. "Are you sure you can make the drive home?" she asked, smoothing out the washcloth. "You're welcome to stay here if you're too tired."

"Oh, I think I'll be fine," Blaine said. "Finn's making me some coffee."

"I think I should go supervise," Carole said. "The last time I let Finn near the coffee maker it came out more like sludge." She kissed Kurt on the cheek. "Do you need anything else, sweetheart?"

"I think I'm okay right now," Kurt said, still sleepy.

Carole smiled at him and kissed him again. "Get some rest," she said. "Call me if you need anything."

Kurt nodded as Carole got up and headed up the stairs. Blaine stood on the other side of Kurt's bed, watching awkwardly as Burt gazed down at his sick son. He cleared his throat. "Well," Blaine said. "I guess I should get going."

"Yeah, you've, uh…you've got kind of a drive, don't you?" Burt said.

Blaine nodded. "Class in the morning, and all that," he said. "I'll stop by tomorrow with Kurt's assignments. The nurse said he needs to stay home for at least a week."

"We can manage that," Burt said. He squeezed Kurt's shoulder. "You hear that, kiddo? You're staying in bed, whether you like it or not."

"I heard, Dad, I heard," Kurt murmured.

Blaine cleared his throat. "I'm going to head out," he said.

Kurt turned towards him, his lashes drooping over his bright eyes. "Thanks for taking me home, Blaine," he whispered.

Blaine smiled. "Any time," he said. "Although…try not to get sick like this again, okay?"

Kurt smiled and closed his eyes. "Okay," he said.

Blaine touched his warm cheek lightly. For a second he wished he could kiss him goodnight, but the knowledge that Burt was still standing over them, eyes trained on Kurt, prevented him from trying anything. Instead, Blaine gave his shoulder a little reassuring squeeze and headed up the stairs, his heart still flipflopping.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Sadly, I have experienced this. I got shingles in the fall semester of my junior year of college, and no one knew what was wrong with me. I totally woke up my roommate at 3am and was like "waaaah, call my parents to come get me." Kat, being the blessed saint she is, did so. I spent a week quarantined at home feeling sorry for myself. And I felt even sorrier for myself when it turned out I was allergic to the antibiotics.

Then I got mono in the spring. During a tornado. And fainted twice when they did the blood test. And then my hair started to fall out. THAT WAS NOT A GOOD YEAR, YOU GUYS.

Anyways. I hope you enjoyed this chapter full of Kurt-torture. Poor kid, I'm so mean to him. At least Blaine is there to take good care of him. And Burt is there to be all "THIS IS MY BABY." I love that he adores his son. And that Carole and Finn love him too. At least when I write them. When I write the Hudmels, Kurt is definitely the spoiled baby of the family.

Crap. Now I need to cuddle Kurt.

This is one of the the first chapters I outlined for this story. When I started scripting everything out, this one fleshed out pretty quickly, once I got to the "face down in the porcelain" and "waiting for someone to take me home" lines. It just sort of fell in into place. Then I started writing and it JUST WOULDN'T STOP.

Oh, well. Hope you liked it! Did you like it?

Also, I have a Tumblr. The link is totally in my bio. You should visit and ask me questions. Because it's AWESOME and I'll give you gifs.

**Next chapter: "One of the Boys"**


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